e of the rosy closets in the wall a fiddle was forthwith
brought out, and soon the noise of the tempest was drowned in the
preliminary tuning of strings and running of scales.

"You shall beat the time, my patriarch," said Monsey.

"Nay, man; it's thy place to kill it," answered Matthew.

"Then you shall mark the beat, or beat the mark, or make your mark.
You could never write, you know."

It was a sight not to be forgotten to see the little schoolmaster
brandishing his fiddlestick, beating time with his foot, and breaking
out into a wild shout when he hit upon some happy idea, for he
rejoiced in a gift of improvisation. A burst of laughter greeted the
climax of his song, which turned on an unheroic adventure of old
Matthew's. The laughter had not yet died away when a loud knocking
came to the door. Ralph jumped to his feet.

"I said some one was coming; and he's been here before, whoever he
is."

At that he walked to the door and opened it. Laddie was there before
him.

"Is Ralph Ray here?"

It was the voice of a woman, charged with feeling.

Ralph's back had been to the light, and hence his face had not been
recognized. But the light fell on the face of the new-comer.

"Rotha!" he said. He drew her in, and was about to shut out the storm
behind her.

"No," she said almost nervously. "Come with me; some one waits outside
to see you; some one who won't--can't come in."

She was wet; her hair was matted over her forehead, the sleet lying in
beads upon it. A hood that had been pulled hurriedly over her head was
blown partly aside. Ralph would have drawn her to the fire.

"Not yet," she said again. Her eyes looked troubled, startled,
denoting pain.

"Then I will go with you at once," he said.

They turned; Laddie darted out before them, and in a moment they were
in the blackness of the night.

CHAPTER IV. THE OUTCAST.

The storm had abated. The sleet and rain had ceased, but the wind
still blew fierce and strong, driving black continents of cloud across
a crescent moon. It was bitingly cold. Rotha walked fast and spoke
little. Ralph understood their mission. "Is he far away?" he said.

"Not far."

Her voice had a tremor of emotion, and as the wind carried it to him
it seemed freighted with sadness. But the girl would have hidden her
fears.

"Perhaps he's better now," she said.

Ralph quickened his steps. The dog had gone on in front, and was lost
in the darkness.

"Give me your hand,