lady of excellent heart and quiet disposition, who certainly had most
conscientiously fulfilled the sacred trust. Oriana had returned but a
twelvemonth before from a northern seminary, where she had gathered up
more accomplishments than she would ever be likely to make use of in the
old homestead; while Beverly, having graduated at Yale the preceding
month, had written to his sister that she might expect him that very
day, in company with his classmate and friend, Arthur Wayne.

She stood, therefore, at the wicket, gazing down the road, in
expectation of catching the first glimpse of her brother and his friend,
for whom horses had been sent to Richmond, to await their arrival at the
depot. So much was she absorbed in revery, that she failed to observe a
solitary horseman who approached from the opposite direction. He plodded
leisurely along until within a few feet of the wicket, when he quietly
drew rein and gazed for a moment in silence upon the unconscious girl.
He was a tall, gaunt man, with stooping shoulders, angular features,
lank, black hair and a sinister expression, in which cunning and malice
combined. He finally urged his horse a step nearer, and as softly as
his rough voice would admit, he bade: "Good evening, Miss Oriana."

She started, and turned with a suddenness that caused the animal he rode
to swerve. Recovering her composure as suddenly, she slightly inclined
her head and turning from him, proceeded toward the house.

"Stay, Miss Oriana, if you please."

She paused and glanced somewhat haughtily over her shoulder.

"May I speak a word with you?"