oast which Lanse had considered the proper
space between himself and the hotel, to keep him from feeling "hived
in." The night was very dark, the water motionless, the men rowed at a
good speed; the two passengers landed at the little home-pier in safety,
and the negroes turned back.

As soon as Margaret had ascended the winding path far enough to come
within sight of the house, "No lights!" she said.

"That's nothing," Winthrop answered; "Lanse is probably outside
somewhere, smoking." Then, as the path made another turn, "If there are
no lights in front, there are enough at the back," he said.

From the rear of the house light shone out in a broad glare from an open
door. Margaret hurried thither. But the kitchen was empty; Dinah, the
old cook, her equally ancient cousin Rose, and Primus, the black boy,
all three were absent. Rapidly Winthrop went through the house, he found
no one; Lanse's room, as well as the parlor and dining-room, appeared
not to have been used that day, while the smaller rooms occupied by the
two men who were in attendance upon him had an even more deserted air.

"Their trunks are gone," said Margaret, who met Winthrop here. "It is
all so strange!" she murmured, looking at him as if for some solution,
her eyes dark in the yellow light of the lamp she held.

Winthrop agreed with her in thinking it strange; but he did not tell her
so. They went back to the kitchen, none of the servants had returned.

"They are probably somewhere about the grounds; but you must sit down
and rest while I go and look for them; you are tired."

"No, I'm not tired," answered Margaret, contradicting this statement.

"Come," he said, authoritatively. Taking the lamp from her, he led the
way towards the parlor which she had made so pretty.

She followed him, and sank into the easy-chair he drew forward. "Don't
wait," she said.

"But if you feel ill--"

"It's nothing, I'm only nervous."

"I shall probably bring them back in five minutes."

But twenty minutes passed before he returned with Dinah and Rose, whom
he had found some distance down the shore. The two old women were much
excited, and voluble. Their story was that "Marse Horrel" must be
"lorse;" he had started early that morning in his canoe to go up the
Juana, and had not returned; when it grew towards evening, as he had
never before been out so long, they had become alarmed, and had sent
Primus over to East Angels; the steamer that had carried him, and