ocence of any capital crime, and persistently refusing
to give up his band. As a last motive of confession, the paper written
by Gabriel Le Noir upon his death-bed was shown him. He laughed a loud,
crackling laugh, and said that was all true, but that he, for his part,
never had intended to harm a hair of Capitola's head; that he had taken
a fancy to the girl when he had first seen her, and had only wanted to
carry her off and force her into a marriage with himself; that he had
pretended to consent to her death only for the purpose of saving her
life.

When Cap heard this she burst into tears and said she believed it was
true.

The night before the wedding of Capitola and Herbert, and Clara and
Traverse, and of the execution of Black Donald, came.

At Hurricane Hall the two prospective bridegrooms were busy with Old
Hurricane over some papers that had to be prepared in the library.

The two intended brides were engaged, under the direction of Mrs.
Warfield, in her dressing-room, consulting over certain proprieties of
the approaching festival. But Capitola could give only a half attention
to the discussion. Her thoughts were with the poor condemned man who
was to die the next day.

And suddenly she flew out of the room, summoned her groom, mounted her
horse, and rode away.

In his condemned cell Black Donald was bitterly realizing how
unprepared he was to die, and how utterly impossible it was for him to
prepare in the short hours left him. He tried to pray, but could form
no other petition than that he might be allowed, if possible, a little
longer to fit himself to meet his Creator. From his cell he could hear
the striking of the great clock in the prison hall. And as every hour
struck it seemed "a nail driven in his coffin."

At eight o'clock that night the warden sat in his little office,
consulting the sheriff about some details of the approaching execution.
While they were still in discussion, a turnkey opened the door, saying:

"A lady to see the warden."

And Capitola stood before them!

"Miss Black!" exclaimed both sheriff and warden, rising in surprise,
gazing upon our heroine, and addressing her by the name under which
they had first known her.

"Yes, gentlemen, it is I. The truth is, I cannot rest to-night without
saying a few words of comfort to the poor man who is to die to-morrow.
So I came hither, attended by my groom, to know if I may see him for a
few minutes."

"Miss Black, here is the