permitted us to come in.

Through the open door we saw her come down the stairs. She looked vexed and annoyed when she discovered who her visitors were, and sailed into the room with an exhibition of hauteur which might have produced a strong impression on a couple of smaller boys than Bob and myself.

"We called to inquire for Miss Kate," I began, after I had risen from my chair, and made the politest bow I was capable of making.

"She is quite well," replied Mrs. Loraine, coolly.

"I hope she has not suffered from the cold bath she took in the lake," I continued.

"Not at all."

"She was very much agitated and distressed."

"She will get over that."

"We would like to see her, if you please," I added, coming to the point without any more parleying.

"It would not be convenient for her to see you this evening," answered Mrs. Loraine, with more emphasis than an ordinary case seemed to require.

"I am sorry, for we desire very much to see her; indeed, we promised to see her after she had changed her clothes."

"Well, young gentlemen, I will assure her you have kept your promise, which will be sufficient to relieve you from any charge of want of fidelity," said she.

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Loraine, but if it isn't too much trouble, we would like very much to see Miss Kate."

"It would be no trouble at all, but it would be entirely inconsistent with my purposes to have her leave her room to-night," answered she, haughtily.

"At what hour to-morrow could we see her," I asked.

"It would not be proper at any hour to-morrow for you to see her. Kate is a wilful and disobedient girl, and I find it necessary to permit her to see no one, in her present frame of mind."

"Perhaps I ought to tell you, Mrs. Loraine, that Kate very strongly objected to returning to her home, and begged us to land her any where—in the woods—rather than bring her back to you," I added.

"Did she, indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Loraine, her face becoming very red. "Then she is even more wilful than I supposed."

"It was only by the promise to see her, that we induced her to land here."

"You behaved very properly in returning her to me, and I am greatly obliged to you for your consideration. It is not necessary for me to detail to you, who are strangers to me, the troubles I experience in my domestic affairs; and you are too gentlemanly to wish to pry into them."

"Excuse me, but when a young lady becomes so desperate as to jump overboard, it seems to me she must be in a very bad condition."

"That was all a sham. Perhaps I have indulged her too much, and not begun early enough to subdue her violent temper. She is very wilful, and needs stern discipline."

"Do you think it was fair to keep her in a room a week for taking too long stitches, or for treading on a flower?"

She looked at me, and turned red again.

"I see that Kate has been indelicate enough to tell you about our family affairs. Of course you have sufficient discretion to disbelieve such ridiculous stories."

"After pulling her out of the lake, we were much interested in her. We don't wish to interfere, but I suppose there can be no harm in telling us what you did shut her up a week or ten days for."

"I am greatly obliged to you, young gentlemen, for what you have done; but I cannot submit to be called to an account for my conduct in my own family. I must ask you to excuse me now, for I have an engagement at this hour."

It was evident to me that we could find out nothing about Kate from her; but the look of malignity she wore on her face when she spoke of her step-daughter was the best kind of testimony to me. I rose from my chair, and moved towards the door, followed by Bob Hale. We bade the lady good evening, and she closed the door behind us.

Just as we were going down the steps, a buggy, drawn by two handsome horses, came up to the door, which assured us that the lady's engagement was not a pretence used to get rid of us. The horses were driven by a gayly-dressed gentleman. When he alighted, and I obtained a fair view of his face and form, I was considerably interested in him, for I had seen him before.

It was the gentleman I had seen at the cottage, with whom my uncle Amos had had some hard words. He was in some way connected with my silent guardian, and I was very anxious to know who and what he was, for such information might be the key to the mystery which shrouded my existence. For the moment I forgot all about Kate.

"Come along, Ernest," said Bob, when I paused to observe the gentleman.

"Go down to the boat, Bob, and I will be with you in a few minutes."

I stepped into a path where the foliage concealed me; but I saw the gentleman looking down the drive-way as if to obtain a second view of me, for I had observed before that he appeared to recognize me.

"I will be ready in a moment, Tom," said Mrs. Loraine, opening the front door.

Tom! He was a constant visitor, or she would not be thus familiar with him. Who was Tom? I wished she had called him by his surname. As I gazed at his face, while he sat in the buggy, I fancied that it bore some resemblance to that of my uncle.

This man had a quarrel with my misanthropic guardian. I had lived at the cottage with uncle Amos from early childhood. I could faintly remember a weary waste of waters before I came to Parkville,—in which the cottage was located,—but nothing more. During the preceding year I had drawn it out of my uncle that my father was dead, and my mother an inmate of an insane asylum, and that no property was left for me by my parents. Who they were, where my father died, or where my mother was imprisoned, he refused to tell me.

This gentleman who sat in the buggy had been to the cottage several times. High words had generally attended his visits. I had once asked my uncle who he was, and the fact that an answer was refused, was enough to assure me that a better knowledge of him would assist me in finding a clew to my own history.

Mrs. Loraine appeared at the door, and "Tom" nimbly leaped from his seat, and assisted her into the buggy.

"Who was that young fellow that came out of the house as I drove up?" asked he, as he took his place at her side.

"Ernest Thornton," replied the lady.

"Whew!" exclaimed he, as he drove off.

CHAPTER IV.

IN WHICH ERNEST RELEASES THE CAPTIVE MAIDEN FROM HER PRISON.