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“Eleanor, my child,” she said, barely glancing at her daughter’s companion. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Have you been in the draughts of those halls? Supper is ready.”

“Oh, I’ve been in very good hands,” was the merry reply, as the girl introduced Dr. Mason, and shook hands with the Governor, who was looking down at her with his kindliest smile.

“Madam,” he said gallantly, “I must compliment you upon this exceedingly pretty and patriotic dress. I have been watching it from afar all evening. How could you conceive such a marked hit for the occasion.”

“I hope it in order for me to say she never fails,” proudly answered Senator Carleton, an imposing looking man, who had come up in time to hear the last remark. “The march is playing for supper–“

“Oh, mother–what is it?” cried the girl, suddenly directing attention to Mrs. Carleton’s face, which was colorless, almost ghastly, while her eyes seemed gazing afar off into space.

“Allow me,” said Dr. Mason, with concern, advancing quickly, and amid the excited gathering of the little circle about him, he gently bore her to one of the large windows, as the Senator in visible alarm threw up the sash.

“To my room,” she murmured, as she revived a little, and thither they conducted her as quietly as possible.

At the door the startled young girl turned and impulsively clasping the doctor’s hand, exclaimed:

“Oh, Dr. Mason–what is the matter? I never saw my mother like this–is she going to be ill?”

He tried to reassure her, though the touch of her soft, clinging fingers set his blood dancing like wild fire in his veins.

That night old Ailsie knelt beside her mistress and soothed her with the crooning tones of her childhood days.

“Don’t you fret, Missie; he doan know nuffin’ ’bout it now. An’ if he do he ain’ gwine ter tell nobody.”

That night, too, Egbert Mason, in dreams climbed a mountain height to reach an eagle’s nest. As he grasped the last wavering support a figure glittering with stars dropped from the nest, suspended by a tattered flag. Down, down it fell. Frantically he clutched at the frail colors. They lengthened more, and more, till the starry, shimmering form was swaying above a yawning abyss. Could he save her? Her–his young love with the appealing eyes? With one mighty effort he nerved himself for the desperate descent, when lo! from yon black depth appears the vindictive face of Isabella Drury. Older, careworn, faded–but still Isabella, and wearing the head of a Medusa.

* * * * *

“You shall never marry that girl, Egbert Mason! I have sworn it! If you attempt it I will kill one or both of you!” and the face of the speaker was like a mad woman. “Oh, I know all you would say,” she went on, striding about the rooms she had entered by strategy. “But she shall not have you if I can not. Pshaw! What fools men are! Do you know who and what she is? Where is your boasted pride, that shrank from a thing like me! Let me tell you, then, you scornful, high mightiness! Eleanor Carleton is—-” and she hissed the hateful word in his ears.

“Woman! You lie!” shouted Egbert Mason, stung to frenzy by her taunts, and sick unto death of her persecution. His was not a quiet nature, and she had touched him in his sorest point. “You lie, and you know it! Out of my sight! Tell all you will. I, too, can threaten. Your vile secret is still safe with me, but I shall find means to be rid of you–Go!”

“Stop!” she commanded, coming nearer and dropping her voice to a sibillant whisper. “Go back seventeen years to a summer night at Crab Orchard Springs! Aha! you start, I see you have not forgotten. Do you recollect the part you played that night? She is that child!” and with a malicious laugh she swiftly passed from the room.