That fiendish look was still in his eyes when they started to transfer him from the vehicle to the court-house, and--how it exactly happened they never could tell--but the seemingly quiet prisoner whom they had not thought it necessary to handcuff, suddenly struck out with two athletic fists, landing one startled policeman on the snowy pavement, and the other one flat in the gutter. Then he fled like a professional sprinter, and nobody tried to stop him, perhaps because they pitied the poor devil, and wished him his liberty this glorious Christmas morning. CHAPTER XXIII. CISSY'S SECRET. Ay, but, darling, speak his name; Give to sorrow words and tears; This strange silence, proud and cold, Fills my heart with anxious fears. Curse him, bairnie, or forgive him, For I know Love's subtle art; The grief that's never spoken May sometimes break the heart. MRS. ALEX. MCVEIGH MILLER. "I must tell you my guarded secret," sobbed Cissy, to Geraldine, and the latter put a loving arm around her, whispering, tenderly: "Yes, tell me all, dear; for maybe it will ease your sore heart. You know the poet says: "'Give sorrow words--the grief that does not speak Whispers the o'erfraught heart and bids it break.'" The last rays of the setting sun stole in and rested like a blessing on the dark and golden heads close together, then faded out, and left the little room in gloom as Cissy sighed: "Oh, I thought I was getting over it; I thought I was contented again until his voice and face brought back the cruel past!" "Whose voice and face, dear Cissy? Oh, do you mean Mr. Clemens? Did he have anything to do with your secret sorrow?" "Everything!" "Oh, dear, and was that why you rushed away when he entered the room?" "Ye-es," sobbed Cissy. "Why, this grows very interesting," exclaimed Geraldine, who dearly loved a romance. "Why, I never even dreamed of your knowing Cameron Clemens! Why didn't you tell me?" "Oh, I did not wish to do so. I did not mean to resurrect my sorrow from the grave where it has rested for years. Oh, why have I promised to tell it now?" began Cissy, suddenly repenting her weakness. "Oh, darling, I'll never, never breathe it to a living soul, poor dear. Now go on, that's a sweet girl! Was Mr. Clemens your lover?" But as the last word left her lips there came a loud, impatient double knock upon the door, making both spring up in surprise and alarm. "Oh-h!" cried Geraldine. "Oh-h!" echoed Cissy. Then they smiled at each other in the deepening gloom, and Geraldine exclaimed: "How that knock startled me! But, of course, it's Harry at last." He was Harry to her now, her darling, and how sweet the name sounded from her rosy lips. "Of course it is Harry. Run to the door, dear," returned Cissy, secretly glad of an interruption to the story she had promised to relate to her friend.