en, tell the coachman to drive fast."

Again Craven Kyte conveyed her orders to the man on the box, who touched
up his horses.

And they were whirled rapidly on toward the Asterick Hotel, where they
soon arrived.

"Hadn't I better tell the carriage to wait?" inquired Craven Kyte.

"No; send it away. We can pick up another one in a moment," answered his
companion.

Craven Kyte paid and discharged the carriage, and they went into the
house.

He took his companion up into the private parlor he had engaged for her,
and he pressed her to partake of some refreshments while he packed up
his portmanteau and paid his bill.

But she declined the refreshments and said she would wait, keeping
herself closely veiled all the time.

He hurried through his business as fast as he could, and soon rejoined
her.

He took her down to the cab he had engaged, and which was already packed
with their luggage.

A half-hour's rapid drive took them to the railway station, which they
reached only in time to buy their tickets, check their baggage and take
their seats before the train started.

It was the express. And they were soon whirled through the country to
the town where the bride chose to spend her honeymoon.

CHAPTER XXXV.

HER CRIME.

They took rooms in a pleasant hotel in the town, and after an early tea
they strolled down to the water-side to look at the small shipping.

It was a delicious evening in September. The sun had just set, and the
whole expanse of water was aflame with the afterglow.

A refreshing breeze had sprung up, and the river was alive with pleasure
boats of every description, from the sail- to the row-boat.

And there were more boats for hire, at the service of any who might wish
to amuse themselves upon the water.

"Take a boat. Craven, and let us go out for a row. The evening is so
delightful, the sky and the water so beautiful," said the bride,
coaxingly.

"I would like to do so, my angel; but, to tell the truth, I am a very
inexperienced oarsman, and I can not swim at all," answered the poor
fellow, apologetically.

"Are you afraid then, Craven?" she asked, with exasperating archness.

"No, love, not for myself, but for you. If by my awkwardness any
accident should happen to you I think I should run raving mad," he
answered, earnestly.

"Oh, well, never mind me! There is no cause for fear whatever, as far as
I am concerned. I can row like a squaw and I can swim like a duck. And I