ll,
In accents whose excess imparts
The power they feel so well.
There may, perhaps, in such a scene,
Some recollection be,
Of days that have as happy been,
And you'll remember me."

The three scoundrels listened, as the voices rose and fell on the air.
The child, with the fear of death before her, and in the clutches of
her horrible captor, gave one convulsive sob and sank swooning at his
feet.

Foley picked her up and, walking quickly, placed her in the very boat
her father and friends had left but a moment before. He wrapped her in
a ragged coat, loosened the hasp of the door on the boat-house, and
took out the oars.

Quickly the captors pushed the craft into deep water, and with muffled
stroke moved through the inky waves, a somber specter sneaking along
the banks of the sleeping marches.

When they neared the upper bridge, Foley ran the boat ashore and
abandoned it. Picking up the exhausted and benumbed child, he led his
two companions along the causeway and over the road leading to the
bridge.

The wind came out of the north, howling through the leafless boughs of
the mighty monarchs of the forest. The last flickering light of the
town was left far behind, and darkness, like a great shroud, enveloped
river, valley and woods.

In due time Colonel Franklin and his party reached home, hungry after
their fine sail on the river, and all in high spirits.

"Jedge, you and the boys sit right down, and we'll have supper in a
jiffy."

The guests thoroughly enjoyed the evening meal. The repast was about
concluded when Edith, who had just returned from the parsonage, came
in, and called cheerily:

"Hurry up, Lily, it's time to go to the festival. They're going to
light up thet tree at half-past eight, and it's nearly that now."

"Why, chil', Lily ain't here. She's wif yo' folks," exclaimed Delia.

"With us? She hasn't been with us at all," responded Edith.

"It's likely she's at one of the neighbors," ventured the Colonel.

"I'll fin' her, Muster Franklin, an' I'se gwine to scol' her good an'
hard fo' worryin' her ol' mammy. At this she put a shawl over her head
and shoulderst and started in search of the absent one.

"Suppose I go too," suggested Gilbert, rising.

"I don't think that's necessary," interposed the Colonel.

"It'll only take me a minute," assured the son, as he began to put on
his overcoat.

"Go if you like then," consented the Colonel.

"An' if yer don't mind, Mis