LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter Ninth

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      "My plots fall short, like darts which rash hands throw

       With an ill aim, and have too far to go."

       —SIR ROBERT HOWARD.

      "I'm so glad it's all over at last!"

      "What, my little friend?" and Mr. Travilla looked fondly into the sweet face so bright and happy, where the beauties of rare intellect and moral worth were as conspicuous as the lesser ones of exquisite contour and coloring.

      "The wedding and all the accompanying round of dissipation. Now I hope we can settle down to quiet home pleasures for the rest of the winter."

      "So do I, and that I shall see twice as much of you as I have of late. You can have no idea how I missed you while you were absent. And I am more than half envious of our bride and groom. Shall our trip be to Europe, Elsie?"

      "Are we to take a trip?" she asked with an arch smile.

      "That will be as you wish, dearest, of course."

      "I don't wish it now, nor do you, I know; but we shall have time enough to settle all such questions."

      "Plenty; I only wish we had not so much. Yet I don't mean to grumble; the months will soon slip away and bring the time when I may claim my prize."

      They were riding towards the Oaks; the sun had just set, and the moon was still below the horizon.

      Elsie suddenly reined in her horse, Mr. Travilla instantly doing likewise, and turned a pale, agitated face upon him. "Did you hear that?" she asked low and tremulously.

      "What, dear child? I heard nothing but the sound of our horses' hoofs, the sighing of the wind in the tree-tops, and our own voices."

      "I heard another; a muttered oath and the words, 'You shall never win her. I'll see to that.' The tones were not loud but deep, and the wind seemed to carry the sounds directly to my ear," she whispered, laying a trembling little hand on his arm, and glancing nervously from side to side.

      "A trick of the imagination, I think, dearest; but from whence did the sounds seem to come?"

      "From yonder thicket of evergreens and—I knew the voice for that of your deadly foe, the man from whom you and papa rescued me in Landsdale."

      "My child, he is expiating his crime in a Pennsylvania penitentiary."

      "But may he not have escaped, or have been pardoned out? Don't, oh don't, I entreat you!" she cried, as he turned his horse's head in the direction of the thicket. "You will be killed."

      "I am armed, and a dead shot," he answered, taking a revolver from his breast pocket.

      "But he is in ambush, and can shoot you down before you can see to aim at him."

      "You are right, if there is really an enemy concealed there," he answered, returning the revolver to its former resting-place; "but I feel confident that it was either a trick of the imagination with you, or that some one is playing a practical joke upon us. So set your tears at rest, dear child, and let us hasten on our way."

      Elsie yielded to his better judgment, trying to believe it nothing worse than a practical joke; but had much ado to quiet her agitated nerves and recover her composure before a brisk canter brought them to the Oaks, and she must meet her father's keen eye.

      They found Arthur in the drawing-room, chatting with Rose. He rose with a bland, "Good-evening," and gallantly handed Elsie to a seat. Arthur was a good deal changed since his recall from college; and in nothing more than in his manner to Elsie; he was now always polite; often cordial even when alone with her. He was not thoroughly reformed, but had ceased to gamble and seldom drank to intoxication.

      "Thank you; but indeed I must go at once and dress for tea," Elsie said, consulting her watch. "You are not going yet?"

      "No, he will stay to tea," said Rose.

      "But must go soon after, as I have an engagement," added Arthur.

      Elsie met her father in the hall. "Ah, you are at home again," he remarked with a pleased look; "that is well; I was beginning to think you were making it very late."

      "But you are not uneasy when I am in such good hands, papa?"

      "No, not exactly; but like better to take care of you myself."

      The clock was just striking eight as Arthur mounted and rode away from his brother's door. It was not a dark night, or yet very light; for though the moon had risen, dark clouds were scudding across the sky, allowing but an occasional glimpse of her face, and casting deep shadows over the landscape.

      In the partial obscurity of one of these, and only a few rods ahead of him, when about half-way between the Oaks and Roselands, Arthur thought he discovered the figure of a man standing by the roadside, apparently waiting to halt him as he passed.

      "Ha! you'll not take me by surprise, my fine fellow, whoever you may be," muttered Arthur between his set teeth, drawing out a revolver and cocking it, "Halloo there! Who are you; and what d'ye want?" he called, as his horse brought him nearly opposite the suspicious looking object.

      "Your money or your life, Dinsmore," returned the other with a coarse laugh. "Don't pretend not to know me, old chap."

      "You!" exclaimed Arthur, with an oath, but half under his breath. "I thought you were safe in——"

      "State prison, eh? Well, so I was, but they've pardoned me out. I was a reformed character, you see; and then my vote was wanted at the last election, ha! ha! And so I've come down to see how my old friends are getting along."

      "Friends! don't count me among them!" returned Arthur, hastily; "jail-birds are no mates for me."

      "No, I understand that, the disgrace is in being caught. But you'd as well keep a civil tongue in your head; for if you're covering me with a revolver, I'm doing the same by you."

      "I'm not afraid of you, Tom," answered Arthur, with a scornful laugh, "but I'm in a hurry; so be good enough to move out of the way and let me pass." For the other had now planted himself in the middle of the road, and laid a heavy hand upon the horse's bridle-rein.

      "When I've said my say; no sooner. So that pretty niece of yours, my former fiancée, is engaged to Travilla? the man whom, of all others, I hate with a hatred bitterer than death. I would set my heel upon his head and grind it into the earth as I would the head of a venomous reptile."

      "Who told you?"

      "I overheard some o' their sweet talk as they rode by here not two hours ago. He robbed me of her that he might snatch the prize himself; I saw his game at the time. But he shall never get her," he concluded, grinding his teeth with rage.

      "Pray, how do you propose to prevent it?"

      "I'll call him out."

      Arthur's laugh rang out mockingly upon the still night air. "Southern gentlemen accept a challenge only from gentlemen; and as for Travilla, besides being a dead shot, he's too pious to fight a duel, even with his own class."

      "He'll meet me in fair fight, or I'll shoot him down, like a dog, in his tracks." The words, spoken in low tone, of concentrated fury, were accompanied with a volley of horrible oaths.

      "You'd

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