ople at any time may bring on
far-reaching conflicts, and barbarous hordes will become menaces to
civilization if taught the art of modern warfare."

After a few minutes' further conversation of a general character, Sir
Donald bids Oswald good-night.

Being weary, Oswald soon after retired.

On the waters of a beautiful lake, under a cloudless sky, Oswald is
swiftly sailing. The breeze seconding his own skill, the boat seems
instinct with life. From the wooded bank, around a distant curve,
emerges a small sail with two persons aboard. Nearing the middle of the
lake, he sees a struggle, a splash, then a female form sinking in the
water. With its remaining occupant the boat speeds swiftly away,
disappearing beyond a jutting wooded point. Oswald's sail reaches the
spot, and he rescues the insensible form of a young woman. She revives
and becomes his loving friend. Soon a hateful, sinister face haunts
them. Many snares they unconsciously escape. There is a tangle in the
web of events. They stand upon the banks of a river, near a large city.
The girl clings to him despairingly. Their foe appears, and both are
struck from the bank into the river. Regaining the shore, Oswald flees.
Through terrible mazes he is driven over the earth, with the face of the
drowned girl before his eyes, the shadow of the gallows looming grim
and black at every turn.

With a groan Oswald awakes. The pain in his side and breast is severe,
but the dream seems much more real. He can not easily believe it to be
simply a chimera of an overwrought brain.

CHAPTER III

OSWALD MEETS ESTHER

Late on the following morning a servant called with breakfast. In about
an hour Sir Donald paid Oswald a visit.

Replying to a question as to his night's rest, he complained of severe
pains across his lungs. Sir Donald suggested that a physician be called,
but Oswald declined medical assistance.

After some pleasant talk, Sir Donald informed him that the servant would
be at his command until evening; that in the afternoon Esther would
return from London, and expected her father at the station, adding:
"These little girls must be carefully attended."

Oswald felt a shade of disappointment at this fatherly allusion to
little Esther. Having pictured a graceful young woman of faultless face,
form, and manner, how strong his protest against the displacement of
this ideal, by a rollicking little "tot," full of spoiled temper and
domineering caprice.

Os