y's cabin wrapped in flames.

A startled cry burst from the man's lips as a terrible suspicion drove
the bounding blood coldly back upon his heart.

Had the deserted cabin been fired by Olive and Ela?

If so, what had been their motive? Something very important surely, for
conscious guilt had looked from their pale faces, had marked their
skulking flight from the scene.

If Dainty Chase had gone to the cabin to seek refuge with the old black
woman, their motive was not hard to fathom, and as Franklin bounded
toward the scene of the fire, it all flashed over his mind like
lightning.

The life of Dainty was a menace to Mrs. Ellsworth and her nieces, for if
she could prove her marriage to Lovelace Ellsworth on the middle of
July, she would wrest from his step-mother the wealth she claimed by
reason of his failure to marry before his birthday, and in which she was
making her nieces joint sharers.

Yes, all three of them had a terrible interest in the girl's death; the
man realized it fully.

And Mrs. Ellsworth but a little while ago had given him a deep insight
into her evil nature.

Perhaps she had sent her nieces--as wicked as herself--to follow poor
Dainty and devise means for getting her out of the way.

It was horrible to think of such a crime, but he made haste to verify
his suspicions by darting around to an end window not yet wreathed in
the leaping flames and peering into the house, though the heat scorched
him and the smoke was stifling.

He drew back with a cry of horror and indignation.

Yes, Dainty was there!

On gaining the shelter of the cabin, seeking the protection of the old
mammy, whom she counted as her only friend, the girl, in her grief and
sorrow and cruel disappointment at finding the place untenanted, had
sunk into a heavy swoon on the hard floor.

Doubtless her cruel rivals, following and beholding her piteous plight,
had seen their opportunity and taken instant advantage of it.

Roused from her unconsciousness by the crackling flames and stifling
smoke, the girl was just rising from the floor, and the despair on her
face as she comprehended her terrible environment would haunt John
Franklin to his dying day.

The great, sublime pity that rose to flood-tide in the man's tender
heart submerged every thought of self in an instant.

No escape seemed possible for Dainty. The inflammable log cabin was
surrounded by fire, and she stood in the center of the awful glare like
some pale,