of a selfish love; and
in his resolve he was strong, but in cold dread he looked forward to
the time when she should come with a new light in her eyes and ask him
to release her. Suddenly a noise came from below, the tramping of feet
upon the veranda. Could it be a surprise party at so late an hour? He
listened. The door was opened, but there was no sound of greetings, no
laughter. The visitors were evidently trying to soften their
foot-weight, but the house shook under their uneven tread. He heard
the click of the stair-door latch; the stairs groaned. He remembered
what Sawyer had said, and caution prompted him to lock the door. The
next moment there came a gentle tap, but he knew that the gentleness
was assumed, for he heard suppressed breathing at the head of the
stairs.

"Who's there?" he asked.

"Open the door."

"But who's there?"

"The good of the community."

"Well, I don't know that I have any business with you at this time of
night, Mr. Good-of-the-Community."

"But we have business with you. Open the door or we'll break it down."

Lyman stepped back and snatched open the table drawer. He straightened
up and thought for a moment. They were throwing themselves against the
door. He seized a light chair and stood near the door. Word to hurry
up came from below. The door creaked.

"Once more, are you going to open it?"

"Wait a moment," said Lyman. "I don't know who you are, but I can
guess at your business. You are violating the law, you are
house-breakers and I wish to tell you--"

Crash went the door. And crash went the chair. The opening was narrow.
The first man fell back. The second man staggered. The third man
hesitated, then sprang upon Lyman, giving him no time to strike.
Across the floor they struggled, the old house shaking. They strove to
choke each other, they rolled upon the floor. Lyman got hold of the
fellow's throat. His fingers were like steel clamps. The White-Cap
gurgled. Lyman got up, dragged him to the door and tumbled him down
the stairs. Just then there came shrieks from below. The two women had
returned. The White Caps were treading one upon another in their hurry
to get out. Lyman, with a chair post in his hand, followed them. They
ran through the sitting-room, a flutter of white in the dark. Lyman
went into the dining-room, whence the women had run. The lamp had been
relighted, and there sat old Jasper, fast asleep.

"There's nothing to be alarmed about," said Lyman, as t