“Oh, Clara!” cried Madge, “I have come to you with what I hope will be good news.” Clara looked quickly up, a light of hope in her tearful eyes. “Has he decided to set us free--to allow us to return home?” she asked. “On certain conditions, dear Clara.” “What are they?” “That you, sweet Clara, become his wife.” “Sherwood’s wife!” gasped Clara. “Yes.” “Never, _never_, Madge!” and there was a momentary flash of defiance in her eyes, but it soon died away. “Listen, Clara,” said Madge, “the moment that you are wed to Sherwood, we will both be set at liberty. He has promised to force no claims upon you as your husband.” “Then why does he wish to marry me?” “Out of pure revenge. You know he is a desperate character, Clara.” “Revenge upon me?” “No; but upon Town. Farnesworth, whom he hates above all else upon earth, and whom he believes loves you.” Madge looked closely into the face of her companion as she spoke, and saw a crimson flush mount to her cheeks. “But, _you_ know, Madge, that Town. does not love me.” “Why should I know, Clara.” “Because Town. loves _you_.” “You surprise me, Clara; however, Sherwood believes that Town. loves you, and he has set his wicked heart on marrying you for revenge.” “Oh, Madge! I wish I was as brave and fearless as you are, then I would know how to decide. You must advise me, Madge. Your judgment will dictate the proper course for me to pursue.” Madge’s eyes shone brightly. “Clara,” she said, softly, “although Dick Sherwood is a desperate character, I believe there is some honor about him; and I further believe that if you marry him, he will set us free. Of course, when we are free, we will declare your marriage a forced one, and that will make it null and void, though the wretch does not know it; so he will have no claim upon you after all, and it will be such a clever joke on him.” Clara smiled sadly, and her lips quivered as, half in doubt, she asked: “Then you advise me to marry him?” “It is our only hope, Clara.” “Then I must consent.” “Then I will see him and tell him. If you agreed to his propositions, he said he would have the wedding take place to-morrow.” Madge left the tent and returned to her own, where Sherwood was awaiting her. “Well,” said the renegade, as she entered. “It is all right,” returned Madge, and the shadow of a wicked smile hovered around her mouth. Sherwood laughed one of his cold, devilish laughs. Then he clapped his hands and cried: “Vengeance! vengeance! my sweet Cecil, and a long life at the Golden Horn!” And strange though it was, Madge clapped her hands and laughed too. In a moment Sherwood continued: