here would be tumult, no
doubt, but every man and woman there would count on the hot, impulsive
Southern blood and, after the first shock, would glory in a Hertford
who could carry things with such a high hand and, withal, a clean hand!

Laying the reins down over the dash-board, Lans turned to Cynthia, his
passion gaining power over him as the sense of possession lashed it
sharply. The pretty big-eyed girl was his! He had secured her by the
sacredest ties, but for that very reason he need withhold himself no
longer.

"Wife!" he whispered. "Wife, come; sweet, come!"

This was no play. The call awakened no response, but fear laid its
guarding hand upon the girl as it had on that terrible night when Smith
Crothers asked of her what Treadwell was now seeking in a different
way, but in the same language.

"No!" Cynthia shuddered, shrinking from him. "No!"

The denial had awakened evil in Crothers; it aroused the best in
Treadwell. For a moment he looked at the wild, fear-filled eyes and
then a mighty pity surged over him.

"I--I would not hurt you for all the world, little Cyn," he said,
taking up the reins. "I've done the best I could for you, dear; when
you can you will come to me--won't you? In the meantime it's 'brother
and little sister!'"

Come to him! Thus Sandy had spoken, too! The memory hurt.

The strain of the Markham blood rushed hotly, at the instant, in Lans's
veins. It gave him courage and strength to forget--the Hertfords.

He took Cynthia to Trouble Neck and manfully told Marcia Lowe what had
occurred. The little doctor, worn by anxiety, was almost prostrated.

"No one knows but what Cynthia was here all last night," she said.
"I've lied to Tod Greeley. I told him you had not taken Cynthia; that
she was ill with headache."

"Now!" Cynthia laughed lightly; "you see we need not have done that
silly thing at Sudley's Gap."

Marcia Lowe began to cry softly.

"Oh! dear," she faltered, "but Smith Crothers knows and Sandy Morley,
too. Oh! I have been so blind, so foolish, and you have been such mad
children."

"I am going to Sandy at once," Lans explained. The plain common-sense
atmosphere of the cabin and the little doctor's evident suffering were
calming Treadwell's hot Southern blood and giving a touch of stern
prosaic grimness to the business.

Cynthia, once she was safe with Marcia Lowe, was so unflatteringly
happy that Lans Treadwell might well be pardoned for thinking her