She repented of her speech, for she believed that Pierre knew nothing of what had then occurred. He had not been told, either by her father or by herself, that Dick Tarleton had been there, as he was still in an unconscious state when the latter left the cabin never more to return to it. She had said nothing of it to Pierre after his recovery. Her father had cautioned her against any communication with him on the subject, and indeed there was not much chance, for the moment he was in a condition to travel, the old hunter had hurried him off, going in the dead of night, and taking the youth along with him. Remembering all this, Lena regretted the speech half commenced, and was thinking how she should change to another subject, when Pierre, interrupting, relieved her from her embarrassment, as he spoke. "You need not tell me, Lena," said he, his voice trembling; "I know the sad tale--all of it, perhaps more than you, though it was later that! learnt of it, my sweet innocent! You little dreamt when--But no, I must not. Let us talk no more of those times, but only of the present. And now, Lena, I do not wish to see your father, nor do I want him to know that I am in the neighbourhood. Therefore, you must not say you have seen me." "I will not," answered she, in a tone that spoke more of sorrow than surprise. "Alas! it is too easy to obey your request, for I dare not even speak of you to him. My father, I know not for what reason, has forbidden me to mention your name. If by chance I ever asked after you, or spoke of your coming back, it was only to get scolded. Will you believe it, Pierre, he once told me you were dead? But I grieved so, he afterwards repented, and said he had only done it to try me. God forgive me for speaking so of my own father, but I almost fancied at times that he wished it himself. O Pierre! what have you ever done to make him your enemy?" "I cannot tell, that is a mystery to me; and so too his sending me away, and so too several other things; but--Whose voice is that?" "My father's! And the tramp of his horse! He is coming along the lane. O, Pierre! you must not let him see you!" "Nor shall he. I can get off as I came, under cover of the trees. Adieu, dearest! meet me to-morrow night. Come out late, when all are gone to bed--say eleven. You'll find me waiting for you here--no, by the big cottonwood yonder. How often we used to sit under its shade." "Go, Pierre, go! He's got up to the gate." "One more kiss, love! and then--" Their lips met and parted; and they too parted, the girl gliding towards the house, and the young man stealing off among the peach trees, to seek safer concealment in the shadowy woods beyond. STORY ONE, CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. FATHER AND DAUGHTER. "I've got good news for ye, gurl," said Jerry Rook, sliding out of his saddle, and joining her in the porch. "Darnationed good news." "What news, father?"