They were riding towards the Oaks; the sun had just set, and the moon was
still below the horizon.

Elsie suddenly reined in her horse, Mr. Travilla instantly doing likewise,
and turned a pale, agitated face upon him. "Did you hear that?" she asked
low and tremulously.

"What, dear child? I heard nothing but the sound of our horses' hoofs, the
sighing of the wind in the tree-tops, and our own voices."

"I heard another; a muttered oath and the words, 'You shall never win her.
I'll see to that.' The tones were not loud but deep, and the wind seemed
to carry the sounds directly to my ear," she whispered, laying a trembling
little hand on his arm, and glancing nervously from side to side.

"A trick of the imagination, I think, dearest; but from whence did the
sounds seem to come?"

"From yonder thicket of evergreens and--I knew the voice for that of your
deadly foe, the man from whom you and papa rescued me in Landsdale."

"My child, he is expiating his crime in a Pennsylvania penitentiary."

"But may he not have escaped, or have been pardoned out? Don't, oh don't,
I entreat you!" she cried, as he turned his horse's head in the direction
of the thicket. "You will be killed."

"I am armed, and a dead shot," he answered, taking a revolver from his
breast pocket.