xpects to lose old Rause. No one could behold such a thing as that and
not have some misfortune follow."

I laid all this up in my mind. My hour of waiting was not likely to
prove wholly unprofitable.

"You see," the good woman went on, with a relish for the marvellous that
stood me in good stead, "there is an old tradition of that road
connected with a coach. Years ago, before any of us were born, and the
house where you are now staying was a gathering-place for all the gay
young bloods of the county, a young man came up from New York to visit
Mr. Knollys. I do not mean the father or even the grandfather of the
folks you are visiting, ma'am. He was great-grandfather to Lucetta, and
a very fine gentleman, if you can trust the pictures that are left of
him. But my story has not to do with him. He had a daughter at that
time, a widow of great and sparkling attractions, and though she was
older than the young man I have mentioned, every one thought he would
marry her, she was so handsome and such an heiress.

"But he failed to pay his court to her, and though he was handsome
himself and made a fool of more than one girl in the town, every one
thought he would return as he had come, a free-hearted bachelor, when
suddenly one night the coach was missed from the stables and he from the
company, which led to the discovery that the young widow's daughter was
gone too, a chit who was barely fifteen, and without a hundredth part of
the beauty of her mother. Love only could account for this, for in those
days young ladies did not ride with gentlemen in the evening for
pleasure, and when it came to the old gentleman's ears, and, what was
worse, came to the mother's, there was a commotion in the great house,
the echoes of which, some say, have never died out. Though the pipers
were playing and the fiddles were squeaking in the great room where they
used to dance the night away, Mrs. Knollys, with her white brocade
tucked up about her waist, stood with her hand on the great front door,
waiting for the horse upon which she was determined to follow the flying
lovers. The father, who was a man of eighty years, stood by her side. He
was too old to ride himself, but he made no effort to hold her back,
though the jewels were tumbling from her hair and the moon had vanished
from the highway.

"'I will bring her back or die!' the passionate beauty exclaimed, and
not a lip said her nay, for they saw, what neither man nor woman had
been ab