d yet he was a friend of yours, Elfrida?"

"Never! I told you so from the beginning of your acquaintance with him. I
explained that he was my brother's friend, and that they were brother
officers in the Indian campaign. I distinctly assured you that he was not
my friend."

"Ah, I remember! Then it was his manner that misled me. Well, he is gone.
Let him go. I hope he will soon take his departure for his own country.
Great Heaven! Suppose the criminal marriage had been consummated before
the discovery of the living wife had been made! Elfrida, I should have
killed that man! Oh, my dear, it is not only the murderers who are
criminally capable of murder!"

"Do not talk so, Abel. The temptation was saved you."

"By a hair's breadth only. It was a narrow escape!"

"Oh, no! The woman, I hear, had been in the neighborhood for a week past,
watching him, no doubt."

"Then, why in the name of decency did she not make herself and her claims
known to us sooner, and here, at the house?"

"I do not know, unless she wished to put him to a public shame. She says
she has a great deal to tell us; perhaps she will tell us that."

"I shall ask for an explanation of that, at least. Well, my dear, I will
leave you with our child. You will come down as soon as you can."

"I will join you at dinner," said the lady.

And, as her husband left the room, she went and resumed her seat by her
daughter's bedside.

Wynnette and Elva, who had not at all changed their pretty bridesmaids'
dresses of cream-white cashmere trimmed with satin, were seated at the
piano in the drawing room, playing a duet for the entertainment of Mrs.
Anglesea, who sat in a big, blue velvet rocker, and applauded whenever the
music pleased her.

Miss Meeke had taken temporary charge of household affairs, and was out
advising the servants.

The truth about the absence of the bridegroom had to be told some time or
other, and so she told them then and there of the interrupted wedding, and
of the identity of their new guest as the lawful wife of Col. Anglesea.

Though the faithful negroes were full of wrath against the impostor, and
would have liked to hang him on a tree until dead, yet, upon the whole,
they were glad of what had happened. They had never liked "the furriner,"
as they called Col. Anglesea, and they felt secretly delighted that he was
not to marry their young mistress, to take her away to "furrin" parts.

"To go to want to marry our young mistress, a