happened in the dark hour in which Toyner and Markham had met, and which
of them had brought back the boat? The misery of these questions grew to
be greater than she could endure; but to confide her distress to any one
was impossible. To do so might not only be to put her father's enemies
upon his track, but it would be to confess Bart's unfaithfulness to his
public duty; and in that curious revolution of feeling which so
frequently comes about in hearts where it is least expected, Ann felt
the latter would be the more intolerable woe of the two.

Then came another of those strange unearthly sunsets. Ann's mind was
made up. Inactivity she could endure no longer. There was one
explanation that appeared to her more reasonable than any other; that
was, that Bart had wavered in his resolution to relieve Markham, that
the latter had died upon the tree where he was hiding, and that Bart
would not show himself for the present where Ann could see him. Ann did
not believe in this explanation; but because of the apparition which she
thought she had seen, because of the horrible nature of the fear it
entailed, she determined that, come what would, she would go to that
secret place which she alone knew and find out if her father had been
taken from it or if any trace remained there to show what had really
happened. It was when the sisters were again alone for the night that
she first broke the silence of her fears.

"Christa, father came to the window last night, but went away again
before I could catch him."

"Sure he would never show his face in this place, Ann. You must have
been dreaming!"

"Well, I must try to find him. I tell you what I'm going to do. I've