rms across the table
and let his face fall in them, his laced fingers writhing and an
inarticulate prayer falling from his lips. The old phantom had returned,
even as he wrote--that dread night visitant which had robbed him of so
many hours of sleep, and planted gray streaks about his temples. It came
tonight with its eyes of languor and its scented hair and its smile of
temptation--to drag him back! Its power was awful; its presence so real.
Would not his present act be some expiation for his past weakness? Would
it not serve to help banish this haunting vision which still sought to
claim him?

CHAPTER XI

Julia slept soundly and sweetly, but awoke early and arose at once. It
was an awful thing--this sudden transition from carefree, blissful
girlhood into woman's estate, with the attending hardships and strange
trials which she had to face. Her plan of action for that morning was
not at all clear. She merely knew that she was going to face a desperate
and wicked man who had wofully mistreated her and her father. She
conceived this to be her duty, and there was no shrinking or hanging
back in her soul when she thought of it. But as she combed her hair into
place and put on a flowered muslin--she could not wear her riding habit,
because her expedition must be kept from her father--she did not know
what she would do, or say, when she came before Devil Marston. Her face
grew hot as she thought of the swiftly approaching encounter, but this
only heightened her unusual beauty. That moment, for the first time in
her life, she wished that she was plain. Her beauty had not brought her
love or happiness, but had cursed her instead with the obnoxious
attentions of a beast in the shape of a man. Concealing the revolver in
the folds of a light wrap, she went down stairs. The Major had not
risen. Swiftly she passed through the library and dining-room, and
entered the kitchen. Aunt Frances' fat person was bustling about, and
breakfast was in preparation.

"Good morning, Aunt Frances!" said Julia, cheerily; "where's Uncle
Peter?"

"Mawnin', missus--whar he allus is 'cep'n' w'en he's sleepin'--foolin'
roun' dat colt ob a Prince!"

There was a degree of asperity in the old colored lady's speech, coupled
with an ominous shake of the head. But Julia had been accustomed to the
family difficulties upon which Peter and Aunt Frances throve, since
infancy, and she paid no heed to the present demonstration of a ruffled
temper.