ought to frighten
her into compliance. Love's dallying might come later on. He deemed his
prize secure. She could not escape him. He held her father's honor--aye,
his very life--in his relentless grasp; for Colonel Dare was not a man
who could survive disgrace. Let her rebel, and the world should hear
an ugly story of rash speculation, involving a ward's trust money; of
financial ruin and despair. Oh, yes--she was his, fast and sure.

It required all her persuasive power to withhold her lover from a
personal attack upon her betrothed husband.

"It can do no good, Eldon," she urged; "my father has promised my hand
to this man. He is somehow in his power. There seems no escape. Oh, that
I might die and be free! It is like a horrible nightmare."

Then his words came in passionate pleading. Eloquently the tones fell
upon her ears. At length the hopeless apathy in her eyes gave place
to interest, then animation, and finally to a degree of agitation but
ill-concealed from the suspicious watcher. They were standing on a low
balcony just outside the ballroom.

"Will you, dearest? Will you be brave for my sake--for our sakes?" were
Eldon's parting words.

"I will try," she murmured softly, as with a fond pressure of the hand
he resigned her to a new partner.

Early next morning Eldon Brand might have been seen returning from
a little wayside shop with a bundle, whose contents--a ball of heavy
twine, a can of oil, and a box of matches--would have surprised his
fellow tourists. He conversed earnestly for some minutes with Stephen,
the favorite guide of Mammoth Cave, to whom he also conveyed some
bank notes; and at eight o'clock he joined the party en route for the
nine-mile tramp into the cave. For two miles the way was the same as
that of the short route, bats and all. Then came the immense hall where
rude plank seats still attest the worship of pioneer settlers in the
land of Indians and wild beasts. Here they sat and sang hymns, while
countless echoes repeated the sounds.

They paused in the Ball Room; squeezed through Fat Man's Misery, that
zig-zag passage so narrow and winding that the one behind cannot see
his neighbor a yard ahead; and then out into the ample comfort of Great
Relief. Merrily they filled the little boats and sailed down Echo River,
where abound the eyeless fish; crossed Lake Lethe, where all care is
said to be left behind; passed the huge Granite Coffin; stood wondering
before the Great Eastern; shud