nd pursued her way in a
walk. She would reach her destination soon enough. How she wished the
interview was over and done, and she was now on her return trip! She
believed she would have let The Prince run, then. The road took a turn a
few rods in advance. She knew the place. When she had rounded that bend
the house of Devil Marston would be in view. She shut her eyes as she
neared it, and breathed a little prayer for strength and guidance.

As the sombre brick pile burst on her sight her face grew white, and she
felt a chill of absolute terror settling over her. She told herself
fiercely that this would never do--that a contained presence and visible
courage she must have, or assume, as they would be invaluable allies in
the success of her scheme. The thought of her old father, almost
helpless, and the cruel wrong they had each sustained, brought a sudden
flood of resentment, and borne on this same current was self-possession
and assurance. She turned off the highway directly in front of the
gloomy-looking house girt with funereal cedars, and came to a farm gate,
loosely hung, and sagging. It was hard work for her to drag it open from
the saddle sufficiently wide for The Prince to pass through, but she
managed it in time, conscious that the exertion had brought the rich
colour back to her face. A rutty, unkept road led towards the yard
fence, where it swerved around the corner and went on towards the
stables. But there was a small gate in the fence, which, while not
intended for the use of horsemen, Julia rode through. It was a dreary
place into which she had come. There was no pavement or walk of any sort
going up to the front of the house. The yard was covered with some rank
and worthless variety of grass, which was tangled and long. Bushes,
shrubs, all run wild, and an occasional flower which had come up by
chance, were dispersed about. The flowers seemed sickly and afraid to
grow, as though they had made a mistake in attempting life amid such
surroundings, and wished to bloom and die and be done with it as quickly
as possible. The cedars were nearer the house, and created a doleful,
grave-yard-like air. The sun was lost among their dark branches, and the
breeze which passed through them soughed mournfully. The ground beneath
the trees was bare and brown.

Julia had involuntarily reined in the colt when she entered this almost
gruesome demesne. She had not imagined anything so repellant. Yet it all
was a fitting en