He ceased and turned back to Leola, kissing her cold face and hands with burning lips, then lifting the inert form in his arms, he bore her toward the house, Jessie Stirling following in a sort of awe, mixed with rage and revolt against the curse he had pronounced against her, wondering if there could be any fateful occult power to cause its fulfillment. With a heart as heavy as lead, Chester Olyphant bore his burden up the steps to the hall, where Miss Tuttle met him, shrieking: “Oh, Heaven have mercy, what has happened to Leola?” She was appalled when he groaned in anguish: “Alas, I found her dead in the arbor. Lead the way to her room.” “Not dead, oh, no, it cannot be! Surely it is only a faint! Come this way,” sobbed the governess, and in a few moments Leola was placed on her little white bed among the dainty pillows, no whiter than her face. Miss Tuttle felt for her heart, but there was no faintest throb to give hope of life. “Oh, bring a doctor, do bring a doctor, Mr. Chester! I cannot surely believe she is dead. Once I saw her lie like this half an hour when she had fallen from a horse, and she may revive this time, too. Oh, please, please bring Doctor Barnes at once!” she exclaimed, excitedly, and, as he flew to do her bidding, she fell to undressing the girl, tenderly, but swiftly, saying to Jessie, who stood near, looking on, stupidly: “Run, run to the kitchen and tell Betsy I must have some warm water for a bath for Leola. She may be in a sort of spasm.” Jessie Stirling ran out of the room, but she did not carry the message to the kitchen. Instead she sought her uncle, to whom she said, with an injured air: “Oh, Uncle Hermann. I’m so glad I came this morning, for I have detected a villain in a plot to ruin poor Leola! You remember how I told you I was betrothed to Chester Olyphant, a millionaire of New York, and that he was gone on a yachting tour for a few weeks. Well, this morning I found that, instead of going yachting, as he pretended, the unprincipled villain, who knew of Leola from me, had come down here masquerading as Ray Chester, an artist, making love to poor, innocent Leola. This morning he came upon us in the arbor, and when I exposed him to the girl, she fell in a swoon so deep that it looks like death.” A bitter oath shrilled over Wizard Hermann’s lips, and he cried: “Where is he, the villain? Let me get my hands on his throat!” “He is gone to bring Doctor Barnes, uncle, but he will be back with him presently, and were I you, dear uncle, I should wreak vengeance on the wretch for his double treachery--to me, his betrothed, and to poor, innocent Leola, whom he has deceived with his false protestations of love. You need not fear to anger me, for I will never marry him now; I hate him for his treachery,” raged the artful girl, and her uncle responded: