Ralph obeyed, and for an hour listened with breathless interest to the exciting story related by his supposed uncle. And as they sat there, those two with their white faces and coal black eyes that glowed with the fierce fires of hate and revenge, any one would have been willing to swear, so fearfully alike was the expression of both, that they inherited the same evil passions, and that the same blood flowed in their veins. Did it? The future will show. CHAPTER IV. “I WILL NOT!” Robert drove home as fast as he could make old Prince go, his mind all confused, while doubts and fears oppressed him. His father was just going in to tea when he arrived, and Robert followed him into the dining-room. Mr. Ellerton received Mrs. Dupont’s message with evident displeasure. “What does Mrs. Dupont wish to-night,” he asked, “that is so important? Can’t she wait until some other time?” “No, sir; she told me to come back immediately.” “Do you know what she wants?” inquired his father. “Yes, sir,” replied Robert, blushing deeply; “but I cannot tell you; she will do that.” Mr. Ellerton eyed him sharply, as if he mistrusted he had been up to some mischief. He then took his seat at the table, and ate his supper in silence. As for Robert, he was so anxious and uneasy that he could scarcely swallow; but the meal was soon over, and they started for Mrs. Dupont’s. It was only a short distance, and they were soon there. Mrs. Dupont met them in the hall, with a grave and troubled face, and ushered them into the cozy sitting-room, where Dora lay upon a lounge, with red and swollen eyes. At sight of Robert, her tears started afresh, and she sobbed as if her heart were broken. He went to her, and took her in his arms, whispering words of comfort in her ears, and soon had her smiling again. She could not be unhappy long when he was with her. Taking Mr. Ellerton’s hat, Mrs. Dupont asked him to be seated, and then drawing a low rocker opposite him, she began her story. Mr. Ellerton listened with cold politeness until she mentioned Squire Moulton’s name, when he glanced angrily at his son. Robert understood the look, and his own eyes fell. When she had finished, he replied, half laughing at what he considered children’s play: “Well, my dear madam, you are making yourself unhappy about a very slight matter. No ceremony like that could possibly be legal. In the first place, they are minors; then there are no witnesses, and they had no certificate.” “Oh, but I forgot to tell about that,” she replied, hastily. “There it is,” and she handed him the paper. His brow clouded instantly as he read it. The affair was beginning to assume a more serious look than he liked. He saw it was made out in due form, and signed by “Anson Moulton, clerk.”