his follower, whose eyes he noticed were fastened on a full length
portrait hanging on the wall; "for which reason," he added "and,
during my absence, may make acquaintance ith the venerable ancestor of
Master Spikeman, who hath followed his descendant's fortunes across
the sea."

He waited for no reply, such was his impatience to see his mistress;
but, preceded by Prudence, hastily left the apartment, and was ushered
into the presence of the young lady.

One who saw Eveline Dunning would never have wondered that her lover
had followed her to the new world. She was one of those charming
beings who are irresistibly attractive--whom to behold is to love, and
whose presence "clothes the meanest thing in light." Her features were
regular, her complexion delicate and brilliant, her eyes blue and
sparkling, and her hair of a rich brown. Those blue eyes were commonly
calm and soft, though there were times when they could kindle up and
flash, and the full red lips became compressed, hinting at an energy
of character which required only circumstances to call it forth into
exercise. Her person was of the ordinary height, and most perfectly
formed, and she moved with a grace which only faultless proportions
and high breeding can impart.

"My Eveline, my best and my dearest," said Arundel, imprinting a kiss
upon the blushing cheek she nevertheless offered him, even before the
considerate Prudence had retired, shutting the door after her, "how
blessed am I, once more to breathe the air sweetened by thy breath."

He led her to a seat, and, retaining her hand, sat down by her side.

"And how dearly I love to have thee near me, Miles," she answered;
"the perils I make thee encounter for my sake too plainly tell."

"Nay, sweet, the danger is only in thy imagination. Conscious that the
right is on our side, we may defy Master Spikeman and all his wicked
devices, certain that we shall yet triumph over them."

"Would that I felt thy confidence, but sometimes I am quite sad."

"Dearest Eveline, why thus cast down?" exclaimed Arundel, looking at
her anxiously and kissing off a tear. "Has anything happened? What
makes thee unhappy? Of what art afraid?"

"Not cast down, not unhappy, not afraid, Miles, but anxious on thy
account, and weary of imprisonment. My jailer hath lately dropped some
threats respecting thee which have filled me with apprehension, and it
was in consequence of my grief thereat, and of something I said, that
Prud