and – and the young lady when you were out in the grounds, a little while since, as the search-light went down, and they came to – to rescue the young lady. I – I succeeded in convincing them that their eyes had deceived them, and told them that you were so annoyed at that senseless tale that you had gone away from the island; that you did not intend to come back, your aim being to sell the place."
"Bravo, bravo, McDonald!" exclaimed Captain Frazier – for it was he. "Upon my soul, you did well! You are reducing lying down to a fine art."
"I made quite a startling discovery, sir," said McDonald. "It was the same man who made you all the trouble last night, bringing those people here."
Captain Frazier frowned darkly.
"But that is not all, sir," added McDonald. "Mr. Varrick was with him."
The name fell like a thunder-bolt on Captain Frazier's ears. He started back as though he had been shot.
"Has he succeeded in hunting me down so quickly?" he cried.
"So I thought when I first saw him, sir. But, to my great amazement, I soon discovered that he was totally ignorant of who lived on the island – that it was yourself. The fisherman had been telling him the story about the young lady, and he had come to investigate it. I soon convinced him that there was nothing in the story, and that he was only another one added to the list that the same fisherman had played that practical joke on. He was angry enough when he took his departure."
"Are you sure of this, McDonald?" asked Captain Frazier.
"Quite sure."
Captain Frazier gave a sigh of relief. He had fancied himself so secure here. Even the servants did not know him by his own name.
"If I thought for a moment that he suspected my presence here, I would lose no time in getting away from Wau-Winet Island, and taking her with me."
"You need have no fear, sir," returned the man.
For an hour or more Captain Frazier paced slowly up and down under the trees, smoking cigar after cigar in rapid succession.
"It is a terrible thing," he muttered, "when love for a woman drives a man to the verge of madness. I swore that Gerelda should never marry Hubert Varrick, if I had to kill her. But I have done better. He will never look upon her face again."
At length he walked slowly to the house. He was met on the porch by a little French maid who seemed to be looking for him.
"Well, Marie?" said Captain Frazier.
"I have been looking for you, sir," returned the girl quickly. "I can do nothing with mademoiselle. She will not speak; she will not eat. She lies there hour after hour with her beautiful face turned toward the wall and her white hands clasped together. She might be a dead woman for all the interest she evinces in anything. I very much fear, sir, that she will keep her vow —never to speak again—never in this world."
"You must keep close watch that she does not attempt to make away with herself, Marie," he continued, earnestly. "Heaven only knows how she obtained that revolver I took away from her out in the grounds to-night. She was kneeling down in the long grass, and had it already pressed to her temple, when I appeared in the very nick of time and wrenched it from her little white hand. She would do anything save drown herself to escape from here. Her father lost his life that way, and she would never attempt that means of escape, even from this place."
"She even refuses to have her bridal-dress removed," said the maid; "and I do not know what to do about it. She has uttered no word since first she crossed your threshold; she will not speak."
Captain Frazier looked troubled, distressed.
Would Gerelda keep her vow? She had said when she recovered consciousness and found herself on the island, and the boatman gone:
"I will never utter another word from this hour until I am set free again. You are beneath contempt, Captain Frazier, to kidnap a young girl at the altar."
He never forgot how she looked at him in the clear moonlight as he turned to her, crying out passionately:
"It is your own fault, Gerelda. Why did you draw me on to love you so? You encouraged me up to the last moment, and then it was too late for me to give you up."
Chapter VI.
THE SWEET AND TENDER LETTERS THAT SUDDENLY CEASED TO COME
Gerelda Northrup neither spoke nor stirred.
"You drew me on – ay, up to the very last moment – or this would never have happened. I come of a desperate race, Gerelda," he went on, huskily, "and when you showed me so plainly that you still liked my society, even after you had plighted your troth to another, I clung to the mad idea that there was yet hope for me, if we were far away from those who might come between us. On this lone island we will be all the world to each other – 'the world forgetting, by the world forgot.' Marry me, Gerelda, and I will be your veritable slave!"
He never forgot the look she turned upon him.
"When your anger has had time to cool, you will forgive me, my darling," he pleaded, "and then I am sure you will not say me nay when I beg for your heart and hand. I shall not force you into a marriage. I will wait patiently until you come to me and say: 'Robert, I am willing to marry you!'"
He remembered how she had turned from him in bitter anger and scorn too terrible for any words. He had given her over into the hands of Marie, the little French maid.
She offered no resistance as the girl took her hand and led her into the house; but there was a look on her face that boded no good, while the words she had uttered rang in his ears: "I shall never speak again until you set me free!"
Twice she had made the attempt, during the forty-eight hours which followed, to take her own life, and both times he had prevented her. Even in those thrilling moments she had never uttered a word. She kept her vow, and Captain Frazier was beside himself at the turn affairs had taken.
But what else could he have done, under the circumstances? He could not stand by and see her made the bride of another.
Only that day, by the merest chance, Frazier had found out about Hubert Varrick practically adopting the village beauty – saucy little Jessie Bain – and that he had secretly sent her to a private school, to be educated at his own expense, and he lost no time in communicating this startling news to Gerelda, and giving her proof positive of the truth of this statement.
He saw her face turn deathly white, and he knew that the arrow of bitter jealousy had struck home; but even then she uttered no word. But when darkness gathered she stole out into the grounds, and tried to end it all then and there, and she would have succeeded but for his timely happening upon the scene at the very moment that the flash-light had shone so suddenly upon her.
Yes, the story concerning Jessie Bain had come like a thunder-bolt to Gerelda Northrup. She had fallen on her face in the long green grass, and was carried into the house in a dead faint.
Only heaven knew what she suffered when consciousness came to her. She was almost mad with terror at finding herself snatched from the arms of her lover at the very altar – kidnapped in this most outrageous manner.
She pictured her bridegroom's wild agony when he returned with the glass of wine which he had hurried after, and found her missing.
But
