e said, in a tremulous whisper. "Laurence, I have come."

"My own brave little girl!"

A tall figure stepped forward from beneath a tree, too warm hands
clasped hers.

"Norry, you're a trump, by Jove! Come out at once. All is ready. You
must fly with me to-night."

But she shrank back--shocked, terrified, yet longing with all her soul
to obey.

"No, no!" she cried. "I can never go--never! never! never! O Lawrence!
I have come here to bid you good-by forever!"

His answer was to laugh aloud. His face was flushed his blue eyes
gleaming--Mr. Laurence Thorndyke, bold enough at all times, had primed
himself with brandy for to-night's work, until he was ready to face and
defy devils and men.

"Good-by forever!" he repeated. "Yes, that's so likely, my darling. Come
out here, Norry--come out. I've no notion of talking with a five-barred
gate between us. So old Gilbert came down to his wedding this afternoon
didn't he? By Jupiter! what a row there will be to-morrow, when the cage
is opened, and the bird found flown."

He laughed recklessly aloud, as he opened the gate and drew her out.

"Not if I know it, Norry. No dry-as-dust, grim, solemn owl of a lawyer
for my little Canadian rosebud, old as the everlasting hills, and
priggish as the devil. No, no! we'll change all that. Before morning
dawns you and I will be safely in Boston, and before another night falls
you'll be my blessed little wife--the loveliest bride from Maine to
Florida, and I the most blissful of bridegrooms. All is ready--here are
my horse and buggy--the sloop sails in an hour, and then--let them catch
us who can!"

Either the excitement of his triumph, or the French brandy, had set Mr.
Laurence Thorndyke half wild. He drew her with him, heedless of her
struggles, her passionate protest.

"Can't go? Oh, that's all bosh, my darling! you've got to come. I love
you, and you love me--(sounds like a child's valentine, don't it?)--and
you don't care that for old Dick Gilbert. You won't go? If you don't
I'll shoot myself before morning--I swear I will! You don't want me to
shoot myself, do you? I can't live without you, Norry, and I don't mean
to try. After we're married, and the honeymoon's over, I'll fetch you
back to the old folks if you like, upon my sacred honor I will. Not a
word now, my little angel, I won't listen. Of course you've scruples,
and all that. I think the more of you for them, but you'll thank me for
not listening one day. Here's the c