with a pleased look; "that is well; I was beginning to think you were
making it very late."

"But you are not uneasy when I am in such good hands, papa?"

"No, not exactly; but like better to take care of you myself."

The clock was just striking eight as Arthur mounted and rode away from his
brother's door. It was not a dark night, or yet very light; for though the
moon had risen, dark clouds were scudding across the sky, allowing but an
occasional glimpse of her face, and casting deep shadows over the
landscape.

In the partial obscurity of one of these, and only a few rods ahead of
him, when about half-way between the Oaks and Roselands, Arthur thought he
discovered the figure of a man standing by the roadside, apparently
waiting to halt him as he passed.

"Ha! you'll not take me by surprise, my fine fellow, whoever you may be,"
muttered Arthur between his set teeth, drawing out a revolver and cocking
it, "Halloo there! Who are you; and what d'ye want?" he called, as his
horse brought him nearly opposite the suspicious looking object.

"Your money or your life, Dinsmore," returned the other with a coarse
laugh. "Don't pretend not to know me, old chap."

"You!" exclaimed Arthur, with an oath, but half under his breath. "I
thought you were safe in----"

"State prison, eh? Well, so I was, but they've pardoned me out. I was a