"Except in one way," cut in the other in a sharp, dry, hard voice. "If this girl whom I marry to-night were to die suddenly on the wedding trip, for instance, I would come in for her fortune; then, when the excitement blew over, I could go to Gertrude and say--"

The sentence was never finished, for at that moment the door of the vehicle was suddenly wrenched open, and with a piercing cry Faynie sprang out into the raging storm and the inky blackness of the night.

A terrible imprecation broke from the lips of the handsome scoundrel by her side.

"I'll bet a dollar to a doughnut that that little fool tricked us by feigning unconsciousness, and has heard every word we uttered. Of course, it's to be regretted, but that doesn't change my plans a particle. I'll be the husband of the willful little heiress in an hour's time, or my name isn't--"

"Lester Armstrong," put in the other, laconically.

The coach was instantly stopped, and both men made a flying leap into the huge snowdrift that banked both sides of the country road, calling back to the driver to light a lantern, if he had been careful enough to bring one with him, and hand it to them in double-quick order.

The search lasted for fully half an hour. Had the ground suddenly opened and swallowed her? they asked each other, with imprecations both loud and furious.

To have a fortune of a cool million so near his clutches, and suddenly lose it, was more than the villain could endure calmly. He was frenzied.

His rage at the girl slipping so cleverly, so audaciously, through his fingers knew no bounds, and he made no attempt to stifle the fierce exclamations that sprang to his lips of what he should do when he once found her.

When Faynie had jumped from the vehicle she lay for an instant half stunned upon the cold, frozen ground where she had fallen. It had taken the coach a minute to stop, but that minute had carried it several rods beyond the spot where she lay. She saw by the uncertain glimmer of the carriage lamp the two forms spring out into the darkness and come back in search of her, and a piteous cry of unutterable fear rose to her blanched lips from the very depths of her panting, terror-stricken heart.

She tried to spring to her feet and fly, but the depth to which she sank with every step exhausted her quickly, and she sank down among the white drifts awaiting her doom like a wounded bird in the brush whom the cruel sportsmen are nearing with their hounds.

She raised her lovely young face to the dark night sky, calling upon G.o.d and the angels to protect her, to save her from the man she had loved with all the pa.s.sionate strength of her heart up to that hour, and whom she hated and feared now a thousandfold more than she had ever loved him.

All in a few moments of time her idol had fallen from its high pedestal of manly honor and lay in ruins at her feet.

How could she ever have believed Lester Armstrong n.o.ble, good and true, a king among men? Where was the tenderness in voice and manner that had won her heart from her, and his oft-repeated a.s.surance that he cared for her for herself alone; that he wished to Heaven she were no heiress, but as poor as himself, that he might show her the power of his great love?

An hour ago--only an hour ago--yet it seemed the length of a lifetime in the shadowy past, she had crept out of the house to meet her lover at the trysting place, her heart beating with love for him, sobbing out to Heaven to send her true love quickly back to her.

As she had closed the door of the great mansion noiselessly behind her, she realized that she was putting wealth and luxury away from her deliberately and choosing a life of rigid economy with the lover whose earnings were, alas, so much smaller than even the pin money she had been accustomed to.

But with love to brighten the way, she felt that she could endure any hardship with n.o.ble Lester Armstrong, who loved her so dearly and devotedly.

After a time, perhaps, her father would forgive her for this step, and take her back to his home and heart, and welcome Lester, too. She had read of such things.

The night air blew bitterly cold against her face as she stepped bravely forth, but she did not waver.

The great hall clock chimed the hour of ten, and her heart beat faster, for she said to herself that her lover was nearing the trysting place and she had not much time to spare.

"Good-by, papa," she murmured, turning for an instant and looking up at his lighted window. "Good-by, my stepmamma," she whispered. "You have always hated me and wished me out of the way. I am going now, and you will rejoice. Good-by, Claire," she added, as her eyes wandered upward to the little lighted window in the western wing. "You never hated me.

You always loved me as though we had indeed been sisters. Good-by, kind old family servants. You will all miss me, I know, but I am going to happiness and love. What fate could be better?"

She waited some moments at the trysting place ere she heard the sound of crunching wheels on the snow. A moment later she heard the welcome voice saying: "Faynie, where are you?" The next instant she was folded in a pair of strong, masculine arms.

But as the owner of them touched her lips with his own Faynie had started back with a terrible feeling of faintness rushing over her. For the first time her lover's breath was strong with the odor of brandy.

And the voice, which was always so gentle, kind and endearing, was muttering something about "the cursed darkness of the night."

No wonder the girl's soul revolted, and that she changed her mind suddenly about the elopement, which was to make or mar her young life.

And what she heard after he forced her into the coach only added to the terror which had grown into her heart against him, and when she made that flying leap from the coach, her one cry to Heaven was that she might escape the man whom she had but so lately madly adored, but whom she now so thoroughly abhorred.

CHAPTER V.

"CAN YOU PERFORM THE MARRIAGE CEREMONY AT ONCE, REVEREND SIR?"

It was the hour of eleven by the village clock. Eleven sounded from the old clock on the mantel. The fire burned low in the grate of Rev. Dr.

Warner's study. The air was growing chill in the room. Still, the old pastor, who had looked after the village flock for nearly half a century, heeded neither the time nor the chill, he was so intent upon the sermon he was writing for the morrow.

He had scarcely concluded the last line ere he heard a well-known tap upon the door.

He smiled as he arose from his chair, crossed the room and flung open the door.

He knew well whom he should find standing there, old Adam, the village s.e.xton and grave digger, who always stopped when he saw a light in the study window.

"Come in, Adam," said the reverend gentleman; "come up to the fire and warm yourself; it's a wild night to be about. Has any one sent you here for me?"

"No, parson," replied Adam, hobbling in. "There's no call for you to be out on this terrible night, thank Heaven. It's quite by chance that I left my own fireside myself. I had an errand at the other end of the village. The weather caught me returning--a regular blizzard--and I have been floundering about in the drifting snow for hours. I thought I had lost my way until I saw the light in the window, and--"

But the rest of the sentence was never finished, for at that moment both men heard distinctly the sound of carriage wheels without, accompanied by the loud neighing of horses.

Before they could express their wonderment there was a loud peal at the front door bell.

The reverend gentleman answered the summons in person.

Before him stood three persons, two men and a woman, a slender figure wearing a long dark cloak, and whose face was covered by a thick veil.

Both men had their coat collars turned up and their hats pulled low over their faces to protect them from the stinging cold.

"You are the Rev. Dr. Warner?" queried one of the gentlemen. The minister bowed in the affirmative, hurriedly bidding his guests to enter.

"You will pardon our errand," exclaimed the stranger who had already spoken, "but we are here to enlist your services. Can you perform a wedding ceremony in the old chapel across the way? Our time is limited.

We are in all haste to catch a train, and wish the marriage to take place with the least possible delay."

"Certainly, certainly, sir," returned the good man. "I am always pleased to join two souls in holy matrimony. Step in; the lady must be thoroughly chilled. This is a dreadful night."

"We prefer to make our way directly over to the chapel," remarked the man who had spoken up to this point. "The lady is warm, having but just left the carriage, a few steps beyond."

"As you will," responded the pastor. Turning to the old s.e.xton, he said, quietly: "Will you step over to the church, Adam, brush the snow from the steps and light the lamps about the altar?"

Adam hastened to carry out his commands. He had scarcely completed his task when the bridal party entered, preceded by the pastor.

Adam watched them curiously as they filed down the aisle, both men still supporting the slender figure quite until the altar was reached.

The Rev. Dr. Warner, shivering with the severe cold of the place, picked up his book quickly.

"Which is the bridegroom?" he asked, looking from one m.u.f.fled figure to the other. The man toward the left of the girl dropped back a pace or two, silently waving his hand toward his friend.