“No, I’m not an angel, and I hate and despise you, Otho Maury!” flashed the lovely girl, stamping her tiny foot on the wet gravel. “But I’ll keep your disgraceful secret as long as you never open your lips to me again. Do you hear?” angrily. “I hear, and I’ll stick to the condition, though it’s a hard one. I had as soon be dead as banished from your presence,” sighing. Then he looked at Beresford. “And you?” he said, anxiously. “I’ll never betray you unless you seek to harm Miss Fane again in any way, even by speaking her name lightly, as you may in malice be tempted to do. You understand?” sternly. “Yes, and I’ll not forget that you have constituted yourself her protector.” There was a furtive sneer under the pretended humility of the answer, but Beresford did not heed it, he merely said, warningly: “See that you keep your promise,” and turned away, going down the path with Floy at his side and out at the gate with her to the waiting carriage. The craven wretch they had left behind followed more slowly, for he was indeed sore and bruised from his fall, and his ankle was twisted from his efforts to alight on his feet. But as he had come afoot on his secret nefarious mission of evil, he was compelled to return the same way, cursing and groaning at every step with blended pain and chagrin, for his heart was filled with rage against Beresford. “Curse him! He foiled my clever plan entirely!” he raved to himself. CHAPTER IX. “OH! THOSE HAPPY MOMENTS SPENT TOGETHER!” Beresford led his trembling young companion out to the carriage that waited impatiently at the gates, the horses fretting and the driver swearing under his breath. In fact, the young man had been charged a heavy sum for this service, the driver sharing to the full the common terror of Suicide Place. So it was with a sigh of relief that he received from Floy the directions where to drive, after which she was handed into the carriage by her escort. “With your permission I will see you safely home,” he said, courteously, springing in after her and closing the door. They had something more than three miles to drive to Bird’s Nest Cottage, and each heart thrilled with the consciousness of happy moments to be spent together. As he seated himself by her side, Floy thought of her exquisite dream of the rose garden, where she had walked by his side, with his arm about her waist and his low voice whispering love into her willing and enraptured ears. Her heart began to throb wildly, the blood leaped warmly through her veins, she felt her cheeks flush and her eyelids quiver in the semi-darkness. She was so overcome with sweet and painful emotion that she could not utter a word, and Beresford, thrilling with the same sweet pain, also remained silent.