il. Remember
who she is. She has friends powerful enough to avenge her if you dare
to injure her."

"You arra mistake," said Girasole, politely. "Se is mine, not yours. I
am her best fren. Se is fiancee to me. I save her life--tell her my
love--make a proposezion. Se accept me. Se is my fiancee. I was oppose
by you. What else sall I do? I mus haf her. Se is mine. I am an
Italiano nobile, an' I love her. Dere is no harm for any. You mus see
dat I haf de right. But for me se would be dead."

Lady Dalrymple was not usually excitable, but now her whole nature was
aroused; her eyes flashed with indignation; her face turned red; she
gasped for breath, and fell to the ground. Ethel rushed to assist her,
and two of the maids came up. Lady Dalrymple lay senseless.

With Mrs. Willoughby the result was different. She burst into tears.

"Count Girasole," she cried, "oh, spare her! If you love her, spare
her. She is only a child. If we opposed you, it was not from any
objection to you; it was because she is such a child."

"You mistake," said the Count, shrugging his shoulders. "I love her
better than life. Se love me. It will make her happy. You come too.
You sall see se is happy. Come. Be my sistaire. It is love--"

Mrs. Willoughby burst into fresh tears at this, and flung her arms
around Minnie, and moaned and wept.

"Well, now, Kitty darling, I think it's horrid. You're _never_
satisfied. You're always finding fault. I'm sure if you don't like
Rufus K. Gunn, you--"

But Minnie's voice was interrupted by the sound of approaching wheels.
It was the carriage of the Baron and his friend. The Baron had feared
brigands, but he was certainly not expecting to come upon them so
suddenly. The brigands had been prepared, and as the carriage turned
it was suddenly stopped by the two carriages in front, and at once was
surrounded.

The Baron gave one lightning glance, and surveyed the whole situation.
He did not move, but his form was rigid, and every nerve was braced,
and his eyes gleamed fiercely. He saw it all--the crowd of women, the
calm face of Minnie, and the uncontrollable agitation of Mrs.
Willoughby.

"Well, by thunder!" he exclaimed.

Girasole rode up and called out:

"Surrender! You arra my prisoner."

"What! it's you, is it?" said the Baron; and he glared for a moment
with a vengeful look at Girasole.

"Descend," said Girasole. "You mus be bound."

"Bound? All right. Here, parson, you jump down, and let them