eechwood, and if his wooing went on smoothly he would be
a benedict in a few days' time--those were his exact words!" declared
Mr. Conway.

"Thank Heaven the mischief has not yet been done," cried Lester,
fervently.

He would have started for Beechwood at once, had it not been for Mr.
Conway, who induced him to lie down for a few hours and take a little
much-needed rest, explaining that he could not go in that apparel, and
it would take some little time to secure suitable raiment, and renovate
his appearance.

Lester yielded to his judgment.

Neither Mr. Conway nor Margery had the heart to awaken him, as hour
after hour rolled by; he seemed so thoroughly exhausted and his deep
sleep was doing him such a world of good, although the complete outfit
which Mr. Conway had sent for had long since arrived.

It was night when Lester opened his eyes--imagining his surroundings for
the moment but the idle vagaries of a dream.

Mr. Conway's kindly, solicitous face bending over him soon brought him
to his senses, and a remembrance of all that had occurred.

"Oh, Mr. Conway! You should not have let me sleep," he cried. "I ought
to have been at Beechwood hours ago; something in my heart--some
terrible presentiment is warning me that my darling is in danger!"

"You are only fanciful," returned his old friend. "Anxiety makes you
imagine that."

"I hope it may prove as you say," replied Lester, huskily, and in an
hour's time he was on his way to Beechwood and Faynie.

CHAPTER XXIX.

"GREAT GOD, IT IS A GHOST--THE GHOST OF FAYNIE!"

We must now return to Faynie, and the thrilling position in which we so
reluctantly left her.

As the bright blaze of light illumined the corridor Faynie beheld the
dark form of a man creeping toward her.

"Great Scott! Some one must have touched an electric button
somewhere--the wrong button!" he cried, instantly springing behind a
marble Flora--but not before Faynie had distinctly beheld him, being
herself unseen, because she was standing in the dense shadow.

"It is he! It is Lester Armstrong!" was the cry that sprang from her
terrified heart to her lips, but no sound issued from them as they
parted.

She leaned back faint and dizzy against the wall, unable to utter even
the faintest sound. "So this is Claire's lover--the Lester she told me
about--whom she is soon to marry! The dastardly wretch who wrecked my
life and left me for dead under the cold, drifting snow heap," was th