was the heroine of that story; wondering more and more where she
was, and feeling a sensation of uneasiness as he thought, "Can any
accident have befallen her?"

It was hardly probable; but Wilford felt very uncomfortable after
hearing the story, which had brought a pang of doubt and fear to another
mind than his. From the very first Helen feared that Aunt Betsy was the
"odd woman" who had gotten upon the train at some station which Bob
could not remember; while, as the story progressed, she was sure of it,
for she had heard of the sheep-pasture trouble, and of Aunt Betsy's
projected visit to New York, privately writing to her mother not to
suffer it, as Wilford would be so greatly vexed. "Yes, it must be Aunt
Betsy," she thought, and she turned so white that Mark, who was watching
both her and Wilford, came as soon as possible to her side, and adroitly
separating from the group around, said softly: "You look tired, Miss
Lennox. Come with me a moment. I have something to tell you."

Alone with her in the hall, he continued, "I have the sequel of Bob
Reynolds' story. That woman--"

"Was Aunt Betsy," Helen gasped. "But where is she now? That was two days
ago. Tell me if you know. Mr. Ray, you do know," and in her agony of
fear lest something dreadful had happened, she laid her hand on Mark's,
beseeching him to tell her if he knew where Aunt Betsy was.

It was worth torturing her for a moment to see the pleading look in her
eyes, and feel the soft touch of the hand which he took between both his
own, holding it there while he answered her: "Aunt Betsy is at my house;
kidnapped by me for safe keeping, until I could consult with you. Was
that right?" he asked as a flush came to Helen's cheek, and an
expression to her eye which told that his meaning was understood.

"Is she there willingly? How did it happen?" was Helen's reply, her
hand still in those of Mark, who thus circumstanced grew very warm and
eloquent with the sequel to Bob's story, making it as long as possible,
telling what he knew, and also what he had done.

He had not implicated Wilford in any way; but Helen read it all, saying
more to herself than him: "And she was at the opera. Wilford must have
seen her, and that is why he left so suddenly, and why he has appeared
so absent and nervous to-day, as if expecting something. Excuse me," she
suddenly added, drawing her hand away and stepping back a little, "I
forgot that I was talking as if you knew."

"I d