joyful embrace.

Whatever the dark secrets of his soul might be, at which so many dimly
guessed, Alphege Cherbuliez was invariably tender and considerate to his
wife; and now, as he gently disengaged the little hands that were
throttling him from his throat, he said kindly, but with a gravity which
always awed and restrained her, "I think she is better, my dear, but it
is impossible to predict in such cases; and all we can do is to wait and
hope."

As he spoke, his brother, who had lighted a cigarette and was sitting
opposite with his youngest child on his knee, looked up. The gaze of the
two men met. On the bronzed cheek of Volmont came a slight flush, and
his eyes had an expression for the moment of fear and appeal. But the
dark, handsome face of Alphege maintained its cold, inscrutable
composure, and the look before which his brother's slowly fell was
magnetic in its steady strength.

A little later, as they smoked together on the steps their last cigar
before retiring, Volmont asked in a sudden low whisper, "Did you
succeed?" and Alphege said slowly aloud, "Yes: they will wait two weeks
longer."

"Hadst thou trouble, my brother?"

The other paused a moment, and then said, "Yes: they were inclined to
insist. They have been a long time out of their money, mon ami, and when
this danger is over we shall do well to avoid another--with them."

"What did you promise?" asked Volmont, as if reassured by his brother's
tone.

"I promised," said Alphege, carefully rolling the end of his cigar, but
this time dropping his voice, "that in a fortnight the notes should be
taken up."

* * * * *

It was midnight, and the house was entirely silent and dark except where
one shaded candle burned in the sick room. Down at the "quarters," as
the negro cabins were called, every one was literally locked in slumber,
and it must have been a loud and prolonged noise which should have
awakened those tired sleepers. But some one was stirring, for all that,
and had the moon been shining ever so faintly it would have been a
dangerous task for those two gliding, crouching figures to move across
the open green beyond the stable as they were doing. But the night was
safely dark: a soft gray scud from the Gulf was flying rapidly in,
obscuring even the dim starlight, and no one saw them as they passed
through the turngate in the fence and sat down close to the water's edge
under the overhanging trunk of a huge