Milton Derr was now not only a fugitive from justice, but debarred from ever returning, by the edict of the band, which had believed itself betrayed by him. To its members he was literally dead. For his own sake, as well as for Judson's safety, he could not hope to come back. There was still less hope that she could ever go to him, with her mother also to be provided for, and so--what did it matter if she paid the debt she had incurred? There was no one to suffer but herself. The Squire had confided to her mother the girl's promise to marry him, and Mrs. Brown was diligently spreading the news daily, despite her daughter's wishes to the contrary. Soon the announcement of the wedding was made in the town paper, to the girl's great disgust and indignation. Both the Squire and Mrs. Brown had conspired in this public notice of the approaching marriage, and the hapless girl began to feel, as they had intended, that matters had gone too far for her to rue the bargain. Every allusion to the affair made her heartsick and miserable. Mrs. Brown, who was filled with plans regarding the event, strongly urged a church wedding in town--it would have proven a morsel of supreme delight to her, but Sally steadfastly refused to consider the matter even for a single moment. She would be married at the toll-house, and at no other place. No one should witness the marriage but her mother, not even Sophronia was to be invited. This decision was a great grief to the mother. She had hoped and planned for far more elaborate things. In vain she reasoned and expostulated. It was all to little purpose--the girl was determined and obdurate. Arguments and entreaties were of no avail, not even inducements, for the Squire had given Mrs. Brown a sum of money quite sufficient to purchase the prospective bride a handsome wedding outfit. Sally was also firm and immovable in her rejection of this proposed expenditure. She would not receive any wedding finery from the Squire, nor would she marry in any that his money had purchased. "He must take me as I am, or not at all," she said. "Sally, I don't know what to make of you!" cried her mother, in dismay. "Refusin' a bran'-new weddin' dress that's offered you." "He can buy me dresses after he's bought me," answered Sally, bitterly. "I won't accept them now." [Illustration: "SALLY, I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO MAKE OF YOU," CRIED HER MOTHER.] The moments sped like birds of evil passage. Nearer and nearer drew the hour of sacrifice. Each day that might have been so full of joy, under other circumstances, was one of prolonged unhappiness, and she scarcely knew whether to rejoice or grieve when it was ended, for the morrow would be but a repetition of the day that had passed, and one day nearer the goal of her misery.