"No--I cannot. I cannot kill my poor gray-haired old father with the spectacle of the flight and disgrace of his only son." "And you have decided well," said Margaret. "It is a bitter thing to say, but I am glad that you have marked out my course as you have done. Think--oh heaven!" and she seemed indeed to be for the moment addressing the powers above instead of those regnant upon the earth--"think how near I came to being this man's wife and the possible mother of his children, each one marked with the curse set upon them by their father!" No human ear could have heard the whisper which followed: "Enough of disgraces descending from parents--oh, heaven!" "You are right, Margaret Hayley--right!" spoke Carlton Brand, his voice lower, more hoarse and broken than it had been at any part of the long interview. "You have reminded me well of your duty and mine. The day may come when you will be sorry for every word that has fallen from your lips; but it may not. To-day you are doing right--let the future take care of itself. Good-bye!" He took the long, slender white fingers in his, and looked upon them a minute, the tears at last gathering in his eyes. Then, when through the thickening drops he could scarcely see them longer, he raised them to his lips, pressed a kiss upon them, dropped the hand and strode off the piazza and away, never once looking back as he passed down the path towards the gate. Margaret Hayley had been overstraining both heart and brain, and the penalty asserted itself very soon. Her discarded lover was scarcely half way down the path when the revulsion came, and pride for the moment broke down before her terrible sorrow. The proud neck bent, she stretched out her arms after the retreating figure, the single word, "Carlton!" came half whispered and half groaned through her lips, her eyes closed, and she sunk fainting into the arms of Elsie. Carlton Brand did not hear the call. A moment, and still without another glance at the house where he was leaving behind the happiness of a life, he had unloosed the splendid chestnut pawing at the gate, swung himself into the saddle and ridden away westward. He reeled a little in his seat as he rode, as a drunken man might have done--that was all the apparent difference between the man with a hope who had arrived half an hour before and the man who now departed without one. CHAPTER III. KITTY HOOD AND HER SCHOOL-HOUSE--DICK COMPTON GOING SOLDIERING--A LOVERS' QUARREL, A BIT OF JEALOUSY, AND A THREAT--HOW DICK COMPTON MET HIS SUPPOSED RIVAL--AN ENCOUNTER, SUDDEN DEATH, AND KITTY HOOD'S TERRIBLE DISCOVERY. "I do not care, Dick Compton! You are a mean, good-for-nothing fellow, and the sooner you go away and get killed, the better. I hope I may never set eyes on you again, as long as I live."