Let the simple truth be told. Gabriel was no hero in Nan's eyes. He was
merely a friend and former comrade, who now was in sad need of some one
to take care of him. That was her belief, and she would have shrunk from
the idea that Gabriel would one day be her lover. She had quite other
views. Yes, indeed! Her lover must be a man who had passed through some
desperate experiences. He must be a hero with sword and plume, a cutter
and slasher, a man who had a relish for bloodshed, such as she had read
about in the romances she had appropriated from her father's library.

Nan had brought over from her childhood many queer dreams and fancies.
Once upon a time, she had heard her elders talking of John A. Murrell,
the notorious land-pirate and highwayman. The man was one of the
coarsest and cruellest of modern ruffians, but about his name the common
people had placed a halo of romance. It was said of him that he rescued
beautiful maidens from their abductors, and restored them to their
friends, and that he robbed the rich only to give to the poor. Sad to
say, this ruffian was Nan's ideal hero.

And now, when she was racking her brains to invent some bold and simple
plan for the rescue of Gabriel, her mind reverted to this ideal hero of
her childhood.

"If you insist, Johnny, I'll ask Gabriel to tea," Nan remarked for the
second time; "but, as you say, it is perfectly ridiculous. Whoever heard
of rescuing persons by inviting them to supper?" She paused a moment,
and then went on with a sigh that would have sounded very real in Mrs.
Absalom's ears, but which simply brought a smile to Mrs. Dorrington's
face--"Heigh-ho! What a pity John A. Murrell isn't alive to-day!"

"And who is this Mr. Murrell?" Mrs. Dorrington asked.

"He was a fierce robber-chief," replied Nan, placidly. "He wore a big
black beard, and a hat with a red feather in it. Over his left shoulder
was a red sash, and he rode a big white horse. He carried two big
pistols and a bowie-knife--Nonny can tell you all about him."

Whereupon, Mrs. Dorrington jumped from her chair, and made an effort to
catch the young romancer; and in a moment, the laughter of the pursuer,
and the shrieks of the pursued, when she thought she was in danger of
being caught, roused the echoes in the old house. Mrs. Absalom, who was
in the kitchen, laughed and shook her head. "I believe them two scamps
will be children when they are sixty year old!"

But after awhile, when their romp was