sult would it set you in
a flame! Never dare to call me cousin again." And so saying, she flung
herself out of the building and into her saddle, put whip to her horse
and galloped away home.

Now, Mr. Stone had privately resolved to thrash Craven Le Noir; but he
did not deem it expedient to take Cap into his confidence. As Capitola
reached the horse-block, her own groom came to take the bridle.

"Jem," she said, as she jumped from her saddle, "put Gyp up and then
come to my room, I have a message to send by you."

And then, with burning cheeks and flashing eyes, she went to her own
sanctum, and after taking off her habit, did the most astounding thing
that ever a woman of the nineteenth or any former century attempted--she
wrote a challenge to Craven Le Noir--charging him with falsehood in
having maligned her honor--demanding from him "the satisfaction of a
gentleman," and requesting him as the challenged party to name the
time, place and weapons with which he would meet her.

By the time she had written, sealed and directed this war-like
defiance, her young groom made his appearance.

"Jem," she asked, "do you know the way to the Hidden House?"

"Yes, miss, sure."

"Then take this note thither, ask for Mr. Le Noir, put it into his
hands, and say that you are directed to wait an answer. And listen! You
need not mention to any one in this house where you are going--nor when
you return, where you have been; but bring the answer you may get
directly to this room, where you will find me."

"Yes, miss," said the boy, who was off like a flying Mercury.

Capitola threw herself into her chair to spend the slow hours until the
boy's return as well as her fierce impatience and forced inaction would
permit.

At tea time she was summoned; but excused herself from going below upon
the plea of indisposition.

"Which is perfectly true," she said to herself, "since I am utterly
indisposed to go. And besides, I have sworn never again to sit at the
same table with my cousins, until for the wrongs done me I have
received ample satisfaction."

CHAPTER XVII.

CAPITOLA CAPS THE CLIMAX.

Oh! when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd;
She was a vixen when she went to school;
And though she is but little she is fierce.

--Shakespeare.

It was quite late in the evening when Jem, her messenger, returned.

"Have you an answer?" she impetuously demanded, rising to meet him as
he en