“Humph, very strong words indeed for a married man, I think! But I shall teach him better soon! I will have no flirting with any one, and with her least of all, for she loves the ground he walks on already. If he held out his little finger she would very likely consent to elope with him, leaving me here, a deserted bride! Look at the old general, too, playing the agreeable to the heiress. What a difference money makes, to be sure.” General Willoughby, indeed, had approached Rosalind again, saying: “If you are well enough to be taken in a carriage to The Crags, we will send for one at once to convey you to your home, where we are at present your guests.” “Do not speak so! It is more yours than mine, and I hope you will be pleased to remain there a long time!” she answered graciously, through her embarrassment. Magdala approached, saying bluntly: “So all of you agree in identifying Gipsy Darke?” “Most certainly!” cried the general. “Yes, yes!” answered Laurie. Lelia would have demurred, but she knew it would be no use, so she added graciously: “I am entirely convinced.” Thereupon Magdala claimed and received the generous reward Laurie had offered. She was profuse in her thanks, and started with surprise when he said in an undertone: “Send your son to me privately this evening. He shall not go unrewarded for his opportune service in taking Miss Whitney out of the well.” Magdala threw him a strange glance that made him think of the fortune she had told him that moonlight night on the way to Lewisburg. “You will be married twice,” she had said, “and your first and second choice will differ from each other as daylight and darkness. These two women will bring a tragedy into your life, but the clouds will roll by, and you will be happy at last.” Happiness seemed very far away now, married to one woman and in love with another one, and his heart sank like a stone in his breast as he thought that the only way for him was to get away as soon as he could from both. He was recalled to the present by hearing Miss Whitney assent to the proposition to go back in a carriage to The Crags with the party. Magdala sent a messenger for the carriage, and then the general, who had all the eager, impatient curiosity of old age, exclaimed: “If you are not too tired, my dear Miss Whitney, we will be glad to hear the story of that night when you were attacked by some fiend in your room, and apparently killed. It will help us, perhaps, to apprehend the wretch!” She grew deadly pale at the memory of that awful night. “I--I cannot speak of it! Oh, no, do not ask me!” falteringly. “But surely you wish the wretch punished?” “I--I will leave it to the vengeance of Heaven!” sighed Gipsy, and Lelia shuddered with dread. Would Heaven be less merciful than this girl she hated? Would it, indeed, punish her sin?