ccident in the
neighborhood. It was full four miles from Forest Rest, but, as young
Roland owned no saddle horse, he had to walk all the way--no very great
hardship, indeed, for a strong, young man on a fine winter night, when the
moonlit sky and the snow-covered earth made the scene almost as clear as
day.

Roland crunched along the little footpath leading through the wood to the
highway, and then walked rapidly over the hard, frozen road--a very
solitary road at that hour of the night. High woods flanked it on either
side, opening occasionally, now on the right and now on the left, to show
some farmhouse, with its barns, fields, gardens and orchards.

It was still early in the winter evening when he reached the Calvert.

It was a very quiet-looking place, a two-story double brick house, rough
cast, with white stucco, and having four dormer windows in the front roof,
nine long windows in the upper floor and eight on the lower--that is, four
on each side of the entrance door. On the right hand side was the public
parlor; on the left hand side the bar.

A buggy and two saddle horses before the door were the only signs of
business about the place.

Roland went into the bar, and inquired if Col. Anglesea was in the house.

"No; he has not been in since morning," was the answer.

"When is he expected?" inquired Roland.

"Don't know; he said he might not return to-night."

Roland borrowed a newspaper, and sat down to while away a tedious
evening.

People came in and went out, but as early as ten o'clock the barroom was
nearly deserted.

"Do you think the colonel will be likely to return during the night--after
the house is closed, for instance?" inquired Roland.

"Don't know at all. But, even if he should come in after we have shut up,
there'll be somebody to let him in. Is the colonel a friend of yours?"

"Do you want to insult me?" demanded young Roland, firing up.

"Oh, no, not at all--no offense! I only asked because you seemed so
anxious to see him," mildly pleaded the bartender.

"One may be anxious to see a fellow from other motives than friendship,"
said Roland, sulkily.

"So they may," conceded the barkeeper. "And ever since that rumpus in the
church that broke up the wedding there's a good many people who are
anxious to see the colonel out of curiosity."

"Ah, they want to see what the monster looks like who, having a living
wife, tries to marry an heiress!"

"Yes; and I reckon that is why the