n.

"Don't sit there!" she exclaimed. "We must respect the customs of the
house."

"Of course!" and he drew up another seat.

Food and a little wine tended to freshen the spirits of both travellers.
Pats especially acquired new life and strength. The arrival of a glass
or two of claret in his yearning stomach revived his hopes and loosened
his tongue. Noticing that her eyes were constantly returning to the
little portrait that faced her, he said, at last:

"By the way, there is something in the cellar that may throw some light
on this lady, or on that empty grave back there." And he nodded toward
the pines.

"What is that?"

"A coffin."

He smiled at her surprise and horror. In a low voice, she murmured:

"It is empty, of course!"

"Yes, I raised the lid."

"What can it mean?"

"I have no idea, unless some one disappointed somebody else by remaining
alive, when he--or she--ought to be dead. That sometimes happens."

"It is very mysterious," and she looked into the eyes of the miniature
as if for enlightenment.

"Very, indeed; but on the other hand, certain things are pretty evident.
Such as the character of our host, and various points in his career."

"You mean that he is a hermit with a history?"

"Yes, and more specific than that!" Then, turning about in his chair and
surveying the room: "He is an aristocrat, to begin with. These works of
art are ancestral. They are no amateur's collection. Moreover, he left
France because he had to. A man of his position does not bring his
treasures into the wilderness for the fun of it. And when he settled
here he had no intention of being hunted up by his friends--or by his
enemies."

Elinor, with averted eyes, listened politely, but with no encouraging
display of interest.

"But let us be sure he is not within hearing," Pats added, and he
stepped to the door and looked about. "Not a sail in sight."

At this point Solomon renewed his efforts to get his master to follow
him, but in vain.

"Why don't you go with him?" said Elinor. "He may have made an important
discovery, like the graves, perhaps."

"More likely a woodchuck's hole, or a squirrel track. Besides," he
added, with a smile, as he dropped into his chair again, "these
broomsticks of mine have collapsed once to-day, and I am becoming
cautious. It has been a lively morning--for a convalescent."

With a look that was almost, but not quite, sympathetic, she replied:
"You have done too much. Stay he