had been
restored to composure by the strong remedies Elizabeth administered.

"Promise not to tell that I ever knew of it," she pleaded. "Swear! I'll
kill myself if you don't!"

"I have promised," returned Elizabeth, in a hollow voice. "I will bear
whatever comes--ruin, death--and bear it alone, you shall not be dragged
in."

These words, so solemnly spoken, appeared to give the girl new life and
energy.

"Go downstairs," she said; "stop them. You can stop them yet."

"How--what can I say?"

"Tell Grant that the gardener said the tree must be left till
spring--bribe old Jarvis to say so--oh, anything, anything; only try,
Elizabeth. Save yourself if possible."

The woman walked to the window and looked out.

"They are going," she said.

"Go down!" shrieked Elsie. "Go down, I say!"

Elizabeth took a few steps towards the door--caught sight of her face in
the mirror, and stopped appalled at the haggard image reflected there.

"Look at me," she said; "my face tells the whole story."

"There is some rouge in that drawer," said Elsie. "Mrs. Harrington left
it. I'll put it on your cheeks."

Elsie could think, now that Elizabeth showed herself ready to bear her
danger alone. She got out the rouge, rubbed it on her sister's cheeks,
and smoothed her hair.

"Now you look like yourself--nobody would notice. Go quick--stop
them--stop them!"

CHAPTER LII.

WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE.

Elizabeth dared not pause an instant for reflection; she opened the
door, walked downstairs, through the library, and joined her husband on
the lawn.

He turned at her approach. She felt a mad sort of courage nerve her--she
could speak now.

"What, planning against the great cypress?" she asked, and even in that
moment of supreme agony and fear she was conscious of vague wonder at
the composure of her voice.

"It seems to be dying," replied Mellen; "I am going to have the earth
dug away from about the roots."

"I am afraid you will only kill it," returned Elizabeth; "it is so late
in the season."

"I did not know that you were a gardener," he said, coldly.

He looked at her standing there with that unnatural brightness on her
cheeks, that wild glitter in her eyes, and it seemed to him that she had
only come out in her beauty and unconcern, to mock him after the long
night of wild trouble which he had spent.

"I know that is what Jones said," she went on. "He thought in the spring
something could be done, but not