Then she remembered that the windows had been tightly fastened down by Leon Vinton's orders, so that she could not raise them. "I have suffered my hopes to lead my reason astray," she thought then, with sudden despair. "Of course it is not anyone to help me. No one knows that I am living except Leon Vinton and the wicked woman sleeping yonder. Papa, Lawrence--all of them, think my body lies at this moment moldering in the grave. Oh, Lawrence--oh, papa! what would I not give to see you again!" She little dreamed that the father she loved so fondly had died of a broken heart over her loss. She thought of him every day and longed to see him almost as she longed to see the husband from whose side she had been torn at the very altar by the vindictive malice of Leon Vinton. The next day from her position at the window she saw the same dark figure of a man pass up and down before the cottage at intervals at least a dozen times. A broad, slouch hat was pulled over his brows, effectually concealing his features from Queenie's sight. "The mystery deepens," she thought, "the man, whoever he is, evidently is watching this house. But with what object, I wonder?" At night he appeared again, and passed the long, cold hours pacing up and down the garden until dawn. Every day for four days the man kept up this restless espionage. It seemed to Queenie that he neither ate nor slept, so constantly did he appear at his post. She became greatly interested in the mysterious watcher. "Mrs. Bowers," she said one night, "where is Leon Vinton?" "In town, I suppose," said the housekeeper. "When is he coming back?" "To-morrow, I suppose. He has been gone a week and he said that he would return in that time. Do you want to see him?" "No, indeed--I hope I shall never see him again!" said Queenie, shortly, turning back to the window. The next day while she was watching the mysterious man as he paced up and down the snowy road opposite the house, she saw Leon Vinton ride up to the gate, dismount and tie up his horse. Involuntarily she looked over at the mysterious stranger. He was rapidly crossing the road toward Leon Vinton. A gust of wind blew off his broad, slouch hat, and a startled cry broke from Queenie's lips. She had instantly recognized the man! It was Farmer Thorn! She instantly comprehended the object of his daily and nightly espionage. He was watching for Leon Vinton that he might avenge the wrongs of his daughter. Clasping her hands in breathless agitation, Queenie waited for the _denouement_. Leon Vinton opened the gate and passed inside. Farmer Thorn, having replaced his hat, walked in behind him. The next moment Leon Vinton felt a grasp of steel upon his arm. He was whirled violently around face to face with the enraged man whom he had wronged, and felt the muzzle of a pistol pressed against his breast. "Accursed villain!" shouted the farmer, in a voice of thunder, "thus do I avenge a daughter's wrongs!"