," he muttered, "when love for a woman drives a
man to the verge of madness. I swore that Gerelda should never marry
Hubert Varrick, if I had to kill her. But I have done better. He will
never look upon her face again."

At length he walked slowly to the house. He was met on the porch by a
little French maid who seemed to be looking for him.

"Well, Marie?" said Captain Frazier.

"I have been looking for you, sir," returned the girl quickly. "I can do
nothing with mademoiselle. She will not speak; she will not eat. She
lies there hour after hour with her beautiful face turned toward the
wall and her white hands clasped together. She might be a dead woman for
all the interest she evinces in anything. I very much fear, sir, that
she will keep her vow--_never to speak again_--_never in this world_."

"You must keep close watch that she does not attempt to make away with
herself, Marie," he continued, earnestly. "Heaven only knows how she
obtained that revolver I took away from her out in the grounds to-night.
She was kneeling down in the long grass, and had it already pressed to
her temple, when I appeared in the very nick of time and wrenched it
from her little white hand. She would do anything save drown herself to
escape from here. Her father lost his life that way, and she would
never attempt _that_ means of escape, even from _this_ place."

"She even refuses to have her bridal-dress removed," said the maid; "and
I do not know what to do about it. She has uttered no word since first
she crossed your threshold; she will not speak."

Captain Frazier looked troubled, distressed.

Would Gerelda keep her vow? She had said when she recovered
consciousness and found herself on the island, and the boatman gone:

"I will never utter another word from this hour until I am set free
again. You are beneath contempt, Captain Frazier, to kidnap a young girl
at the altar."

He never forgot how she looked at him in the clear moonlight as he
turned to her, crying out passionately:

"It is your own fault, Gerelda. Why did you draw me on to love you so?
You encouraged me up to the last moment, and then it was too late for me
to give you up."

CHAPTER VI.

THE SWEET AND TENDER LETTERS THAT SUDDENLY CEASED TO COME.

Gerelda Northrup neither spoke nor stirred.

"You drew me on--ay, up to the very last moment--or this would never
have happened. I come of a desperate race, Gerelda," he went on,
huskily, "and when you s