rster catched him in de act ob takin' out de silver, and de
gemman--robber, I mean--felt so 'shamed ob himself dat he up and banged
a bullet straight frough his own bussom, afore Miss Elsie, too!"

"Poor thing; precious little darling," cried Tom; "Mellen's left her all
alone, and Elizabeth away; dear me! Dolf, Dolf, what was that?"

"It's her a screaming."

"What, Elsie, my Elsie?"

"Yes, sah; dat am her."

"Dolf, I say," cried Tom, in breathless anxiety, thrusting a ten dollar
gold piece into the negro's hand; "Dolf, would it be very much amiss,
you know, if I was to take off my boots and just steal up?"

"Well, I doesn't 'zactly know; de fair sex am so captious 'bout us
gemmen; but Vic is up dar, and you can ask her, she knows all 'bout de
'prieties. Smart gal, dat Vic, I tell you; loves Miss Elsie, too, like
fifty."

"Does she?" said Tom; "here's another gold piece, give it to her, with
my best regards, Dolf."

Dolf pocketed the gold piece, and that was the last time it saw the
light for many a day. Tom took off his boots and crept upstairs in his
stocking feet, holding his breath as he went. Vic came out of the shaded
room, and the young man's grief softened her so much that she allowed
him to steal into Elsie's boudoir, where he sat all the morning
listening to the poor girl's muttered fancies, after bribing Vic with
gold pieces to leave the door open, that he might catch a glimpse now
and then of the beloved face, flushed and wild as it was.

Generous, noble-hearted Tom Fuller; he had been really hungry when he
came from his own room, but all that was forgotten now, and there he sat
fasting till the shadows slanted eastward. Then he saw Mellen riding
towards the house at a slow, weary pace, which bespoke great depression.

Tom arose and went downstairs, urged to meet his friend by the kindest
heart that ever beat in a human bosom.

"She's better, I am quite sure; she slept two or three minutes; so don't
look so downhearted," he cried, seizing Mellen's hand as he dismounted.
"But where's Elizabeth? I thought you had gone after her."

"Elizabeth, my wife," answered Mellen, lifting his haggard eyes to Tom's
face. "She is gone--lost--dead. My friend, my friend, I have murdered
your cousin, murdered my own wife."

"Murdered her; now I like that," said Fuller; "but where is she? not
gone off in a tiff. Bessie wasn't the girl to do that any way; but as
for murder, oh nonsense!"

"Fuller, you are her onl