The Gray Wolf’s Daughter. BY GERTRUDE WARDEN, _Author of “A Race for Love,” “Mam’zelle Bebe,” “The Secret of a Letter,” etc._ NEW YORK: THE FEDERAL BOOK COMPANY, PUBLISHERS. [COPYRIGHT] Copyright, 1894, BY Edward Harrison. [_All Rights Reserved._] CONTENTS. Prologue. Part I Prologue. Part II I.--Knights Errant II.--Stella III.--A Siren IV.--Enemies V.--Coming Conflicts VI.--Lord Carthew’s Wooing VII.--A Kiss Too Long VIII.--An Old Friend IX.--The Gypsy’s Prophecy X.--Father and Daughter XI.--An Old Story XII.--For Better, for Worse XIII.--The Sending of The Token XIV.--“The Romanys Have not Forgotten” XV.--The Wedding Eve XVI.--The Charm XVII.--A Mad Bride XVIII.--The Wedding Journey XIX.--Found! XX.--Lord Carthew Finds His Wife XXI. AND LAST.--The Curse Fulfilled THE GRAY WOLF’S DAUGHTER. PROLOGUE.--PART I. On a stormy afternoon in October, in the thirtieth year of Queen Victoria’s reign, a young doctor sat before the fire in his new home at the sleepy old Surrey town of Grayling, warming his hands, and thinking, not too cheerfully, of his prospects. Ernest Netherbridge was not a genius, but he was a thoughtful, intelligent, painstaking, and unselfish man. Grayling had not yet found out his good qualities; the inhabitants, never greatly distinguished for lucidity of vision, had only had time to discover that his “bedside manner” was less soothing than that of his predecessor, and that he had an unpleasant trick of telling them that they ate and drank too much for their health. Young Dr. Netherbridge had also the bad taste to ascribe melancholy to “liver,” fainting fits and ladylike super-sensitiveness to “anæmia,” and hysterics to ill-temper. Consequently he was not popular, and he knew it. No one, therefore, was more surprised than he when a handsome closed carriage, drawn by two splendid bays, was pulled up before his door, and a footman, after a reverberating rat-tat-tat, delivered a note, emblazoned with an imposing coat of arms, to Dr. Netherbridge’s housekeeper for her master. On breaking the seal the doctor’s surprise increased. The letter was sent from the Chase, a very large estate, which extended for several miles in the vicinity of Grayling, and which belonged to Sir Philip Cranstoun, the representative of one of the oldest families in Surrey, a man reputed equally wealthy and eccentric, concerning whom wonderful tales were whispered round Grayling tea-tables. The letter was written in a small and cramped man’s handwriting, and ran as follows: