ing. He did not lack courage to laugh
back into the faces of the jeering multitude. But to own himself beaten by
a mocking ghost, a specter from another sphere; to relinquish for her
gratification the traditions of his race and the trust of his fathers; to
leave her triumphant on the field,--this he could not do for any woman
living--or dead.

Ah, it was a clever net the old woman had spun to ensnare him, more clever
than she knew, unless by some occult power she was cognizant of his
affection for Lucy. Could it be? The thought arrested him.

Had Ellen guessed his secret, and, armed with the knowledge, shaped her
revenge accordingly? If so, she was a thousand times more cruel than he
had imagined her capable of being, and it gave quite a different slant to
her perfidy. Suppose she had suspected he loved Lucy and that Lucy loved
him. Then her plot was one to separate them, and the very course he was
following was the result she had striven to bring about. She had meant to
wreck his happiness and that of the woman he loved; she had planned,
schemed, worked to do so.

Martin threw back his head and laughed defiantly up at the ceiling. Well,
she should not succeed. He would marry Lucy, and he would rebuild the
wall: and with every stone he put in place he would shout to the confines
of the universe, to the planets where Ellen Webster's spirit lurked, to
the grave that harbored her bones:

_Amor Vincit Omnia!_

With jubilant step he crossed to the window and looked out. A slender arc
of silver hung above the trees, bathing the fields in mystic splendor. It
was not late. Only the maelstrom of torture through which he had passed
had transformed the minutes to hours, and the hours to years. Why, the
evening was still young, young enough for him to go to Lucy and speak into
her ear all the love that surged in his heart. They had been made for one
another from the beginning. He would wed her, and the old homestead she
venerated should be hers indeed. It was all very simple, now.

With the abandon of a schoolboy he rushed downstairs, pausing only an
instant to put his head in at the kitchen door and shout to Jane:

"I'm goin' over to the Websters'. I may be late. Don't sit up for me."

Then he was gone. Alone beneath the arching sky, his happiness mounted to
the stars. How delicious was the freshness of the cool night air! How
sweet the damp fragrance of the forest! The spires of the pines richly
dark against the fading sk