“Hello! What is this? Looks romantic!” cried a gay, female voice, as the owner ran forward, followed by several curious people, who united in concern for the drenched and hapless strangers thus cast upon their care. With lively ejaculations of wonder, they got the pair into a large, shabby sitting room, where a troupe of stage people were making merry. The most warm-hearted people on earth, they began, without any questions, to relieve their guests. Presently Bonair was able to explain reservedly: “I was driving out with that young lady, a friend of mine, when my horse became frightened and ran away, throwing us both out. The accident happened about a mile back, and I carried the young girl in my arms, hoping to find a doctor somewhere.” “There is one in the house and he has already gone to her assistance,” they told him. “Tell him to save her life at whatever cost. I would give my own life to save that girl,” he cried anxiously, causing a sympathetic smile all around. No one blamed him, for one look at Berry’s lovely face seemed to them sufficient excuse for the greatest devotion. Meanwhile they found Bonair needing attention, also, for his injured foot was rapidly swelling and causing pain. The doctor came in presently and gave it the necessary attention, saying that his patient was reviving, and would presently be herself again, he hoped. There were some superficial bruises, but he hoped there was no internal injury. “Thank Heaven!” cried Bonair fervently, pressing a roll of bills into the physician’s hand, while he added: “If a covered vehicle can be had, I would like to take the young girl home to her mother, who may be uneasy at her delay.” “But, my dear sir, that will be most imprudent; I should not like my patient to be moved until to-morrow. As for you, you might send word to her mother to come here.” The young fellow shrank a little. He wondered how Mrs. Vining would take the news. He would doubtless get a sound berating from the old woman. “But I have fully deserved it, and I will take my punishment like a man,” he thought grimly, and ordered the vehicle to be got ready quickly. “There is a terrible storm raging--it is equinoctial weather, you know. Better wait till it clears up,” they said. “No, I will not wait, if a man can be found to drive me. That poor mother will be very anxious,” he answered firmly. In the teeth of the driving storm they set forth, but Charley Bonair never reached his destination. The driver, a sulky-looking fellow, who had observed Bonair’s display of money at the inn, as well as his diamond ring, assaulted and robbed his passenger on the way to town, and left him for dead upon the highway. When found the next morning, there was indeed but little life left in him--not enough to recognize any one, or to remember aught that had happened. Life became a blank to him for many days.