t was very cold, but her excitement and the fear of
pursuit kept her warm until suddenly her strength failed her and she
sank down in the snow without power to move. At this juncture the farmer
and his wife drove by, having been on a trip to the town. The man sprang
out and lifted her in, and the woman tenderly wrapped her in the robes
and blankets and pillowed her head upon her motherly bosom. By the time
they reached the farm-house she was quite warm again, but so exhausted
that with a brief explanation that she was lost, but somebody would be
sure to find her before long, she fell upon the couch and almost
immediately lost consciousness.

So Arthur found her, and one look into his eyes assured her that all her
troubles were over.

They did not prosecute Charlie Mershone, after all. Fogerty pleaded for
him earnestly, and Uncle John pointed out that to arrest the young man
would mean to give the whole affair to the newspapers, which until now
had not gleaned the slightest inkling of what had happened. Publicity
was to be avoided if possible, as it would set loose a thousand
malicious tongues and benefit nobody. The only thing to be gained by
prosecuting Mershone was revenge, and all were willing to forego that
doubtful satisfaction.

However, Uncle John had an interview with the young man in the office of
the prosecuting attorney, at which Mershone was given permission to
leave town quietly and pursue his fortunes in other fields. If ever he
returned, or in any way molested any of the Merricks or his cousin
Diana, he was assured that he would be immediately arrested and
prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

Mershone accepted the conditions and became an exile, passing at once
out of the lives of those he had so deeply wronged.

The joyful reunion of the lovers led to an early date being set for the
wedding. They met all protests by pleading their fears of another
heartrending separation, and no one ventured to oppose their desire.

Mrs. Merrick quickly recovered her accustomed spirits during the
excitement of those anxious weeks preceding the wedding. Cards were
issued to "the very best people in town;" the _trousseau_ involved
anxiety by day and restless dreams by night--all eminently enjoyable;
there were entertainments to be attended and congratulations to be
received from every side.

Society, suspecting nothing of the tragedy so lately enacted in these
young lives, was especially gracious to the betro