ard creature to manage. Her
father could influence, but not govern her. Old Sophy, born of a slave
mother in the house, could do more with her than anybody, knowing her
by long instinctive study. The other servants were afraid of her. Her
father had sent for governesses, but none of them ever stayed long. She
made them nervous; one of them had a strange fit of sickness; not one of
them ever came back to the house to see her. A young Spanish woman who
taught her dancing succeeded best with her, for she had a passion for
that exercise, and had mastered some of the most difficult dances.
Long before this period, she had manifested some most extraordinary
singularities of taste or instinct. The extreme sensitiveness of her
father on this point prevented any allusion to them; but there
were stories floating round, some of them even getting into the
papers,--without her name, of course,--which were of a kind to excite
intense curiosity, if not more anxious feelings. This thing was certain,
that at the age of twelve she was missed one night, and was found
sleeping in the open air under a tree, like a wild creature. Very often
she would wander off by day, always without a companion, bringing home
with her a nest, a flower, or even a more questionable trophy of her
ramble, such as showed that there was no place where she was afraid to
venture. Once in a while she had stayed out over night, in which
case the alarm was spread, and men went in search of her, but never
successfully,--so--that some said she hid herself in trees, and others
that she had found one of the old Tory caves.

Some, of course, said she was a crazy girl, and ought to be sent to an
Asylum. But old Dr. Kittredge had shaken his head, and told them to bear
with her, and let her have her way as much as they could, but watch her,
as far as possible, without making her suspicious of them. He visited
her now and then, under the pretext of seeing her father on business, or
of only making a friendly call.

The Doctor fastened his horse outside the gate, and walked up the
garden-alley. He stopped suddenly with a start. A strange sound had
jarred upon his ear. It was a sharp prolonged rattle, continuous, but
rising and falling as if in rhythmical cadence. He moved softly towards
the open window from which the sound seemed to proceed.

Elsie was alone in the room, dancing one of those wild Moorish
fandangos, such as a matador hot from the Plaza de Toros of Seville or
M