he distant absence of Le Noir, did not consider his
favorite in danger.

He little knew that a subtle and unscrupulous agent had been left sworn
to her destruction, and that another individual, almost equally
dangerous, had registered a secret vow to run off with her.

Neither did poor Cap when, rejoicing to be free from the dogging
attendance of Wool, imagine the perils to which she was exposed; nor is
it even likely that if she had she would have cared for them in any
other manner than as promising piquant adventures. From childhood she
had been inured to danger, and had never suffered harm; therefore, Cap,
like the Chevalier Bayard, was "without fear and without reproach."

Craven Le Noir proceeded cautiously with his plans, knowing that there
was time enough and that all might be lost by haste. He did not wish to
alarm Capitola.

The first time he took occasion to meet her in her rides he merely
bowed deeply, even to the flaps of his saddle and, with a melancholy
smile, passed on.

"Miserable wretch! He is a mean fellow to want to marry a girl against
her will, no matter how much he might have been in love with her, and I
am very glad I balked him. Still, he looks so ill and unhappy that I
can't help pitying him," said Cap, looking compassionately at his white
cheeks and languishing eyes, and little knowing that the illness was
the effect of dissipation and that the melancholy was assumed for the
occasion.

A few days after this Cap again met Craven Le Noir, who again, with a
deep bow and sad smile, passed her.

"Poor fellow! he richly deserves to suffer, and I hope it may make him
better, for I am right-down sorry for him; it must be so dreadful to
lose one we love; but it was too base in him to let his father try to
compel her to have him. Suppose, now, Herbert Greyson was to take a
fancy to another girl, would I let uncle go to him and put a pistol to
his head and say, 'Cap is fond of you, you varlet! and demmy, sir, you
shall marry none but her, or receive an ounce of lead in your stupid
brains'? No, I'd scorn it; I'd forward the other wedding; I'd make the
cake and dress the bride and--then maybe I'd break--no, I'm blamed if I
would! I'd not break my heart for anybody. Set them up with it, indeed!
Neither would my dear, darling, sweet, precious Herbert treat me so,
and I'm a wretch to think of it!" said Cap, with a rich, inimitable
unction as, rejoicing in her own happy love, she cheered Gyp and rode
o