self, that he might show her the power of his great love?
An hour ago--only an hour ago--yet it seemed the length of a lifetime in
the shadowy past, she had crept out of the house to meet her lover at
the trysting place, her heart beating with love for him, sobbing out to
Heaven to send her true love quickly back to her.

As she had closed the door of the great mansion noiselessly behind her,
she realized that she was putting wealth and luxury away from her
deliberately and choosing a life of rigid economy with the lover whose
earnings were, alas, so much smaller than even the pin money she had
been accustomed to.

But with love to brighten the way, she felt that she could endure any
hardship with noble Lester Armstrong, who loved her so dearly and
devotedly.

After a time, perhaps, her father would forgive her for this step, and
take her back to his home and heart, and welcome Lester, too. She had
read of such things.

The night air blew bitterly cold against her face as she stepped bravely
forth, but she did not waver.

The great hall clock chimed the hour of ten, and her heart beat faster,
for she said to herself that her lover was nearing the trysting place
and she had not much time to spare.

"Good-by, papa," she murmured, turning for an instant and looking up at
his lighted window. "Good-by, my stepmamma," she whispered. "You have
always hated me and wished me out of the way. I am going now, and you
will rejoice. Good-by, Claire," she added, as her eyes wandered upward
to the little lighted window in the western wing. "You never hated me.
You always loved me as though we had indeed been sisters. Good-by, kind
old family servants. You will all miss me, I know, but I am going to
happiness and love. What fate could be better?"

She waited some moments at the trysting place ere she heard the sound of
crunching wheels on the snow. A moment later she heard the welcome voice
saying: "Faynie, where are you?" The next instant she was folded in a
pair of strong, masculine arms.

But as the owner of them touched her lips with his own Faynie had
started back with a terrible feeling of faintness rushing over her. For
the first time her lover's breath was strong with the odor of brandy.

And the voice, which was always so gentle, kind and endearing, was
muttering something about "the cursed darkness of the night."

No wonder the girl's soul revolted, and that she changed her mind
suddenly about the elopement, which