"Do you think you could show your friendship and stick to me through a terrible ordeal?" she asked earnestly.

"I'm sure of it," he answered. "My love is not so thin-skinned as to shrink from any test. Only try me!"

"Then get me away from this place," she cried, "far, _far_ away from it. But, mind, it will not be so easy as you think."

"Are you held against your will?" demanded Paul.

"No, _no_! You can not understand it. But I could not go alone. I will explain it to you some time, but not now. There is no hurry."

"Is Ah Ben anxious to keep you?" inquired Henley.

"On the contrary, he wishes me to go. You can not understand me, as I am quite different from other girls. Only take my word for what I tell you; and when the time comes, you will not desert me, will you?"

There was something wildly entreating in her manner and the tones of her voice, and a pathos which went to Henley's heart. What it all was about he could no more imagine than he could account for any of the mysteries at Guir House; but he was determined to stand by Dorothy, come what might.

Suddenly the girl had become quiet, rapt in some new thought. In another minute she placed her hand lightly upon Paul's shoulder, and said:

"Remember, you have promised!"

"I have promised," answered Paul. "Is there anything more?"

"Yes," said Dorothy.

She paused for a minute, as if what she were about to say was a great effort.

"Well," he continued, "after I have got you safely away--which, by the by, does not seem such a difficult task, as no one opposes your going--but, after we have escaped together, what further am I to do?"

"Naturally, I feel great delicacy in what I am about to say," said Dorothy; "but since you have told me that you love me, it does not seem so hard, although you do not know who or what I am--but, to be candid and frank with you, dear Paul, after you have gotten me away--why, you must marry me!"

Paul s.n.a.t.c.hed her up in his arms.

"My darling!" he said, "you are making me the proudest man on earth!"

"Do not speak too soon," said Dorothy, releasing herself from his grasp. "Remember I have told you frankly that you do not know me.

Perhaps I am driving a hard bargain with you!"

For a moment Paul became serious.

"Tell me, Dorothy," he asked, in an altered tone, "have you, or Ah Ben, or any member of your mysterious household or family, any crimes to answer for? Is there any good reason why I, as an honest man, should object to taking you for my wife?"

She turned scarlet as she answered:

"Never! There is no such reason. There is nothing dishonorable, I swear to you--nothing which could implicate you in any way with wrong-doing. No, Paul; my secret is different from that. You could never guess it, nor could I ever compromise you with crime."

Her manner was sincere, and carried conviction to the hearer of the truth of what she said.

"It is time we were going to the house," she added, rising, with the parrot still upon her shoulder; and side by side they retraced their steps along the woodland way homeward.

5

Although Mr. Henley had no doubt of the truth of Miss Guir's a.s.sertion, the mystery of her life was as real and deeply impressive as ever.

Perhaps it was even more so, as seeming more subtle and far-reaching than crime itself, if such a thing were possible. Paul was determined to investigate the secret of the closet stairs; for while Ah Ben's explanation was plausible to a degree, the blank wall and heavy door at the bottom filled him with an uncanny fascination, which grew as he pondered upon them. Exactly what course to pursue he had not decided, but awaited an opportunity to continue his efforts in earnest. There were two serious difficulties to contend with; one was the want of tools, the other the necessity of prosecuting his work in silence.

As upon the previous evening, Dorothy and Mr. Henley dined alone, although Ah Ben, appearing just before they had finished, partook of a little dry lettuce and a small cup of coffee. Dorothy, as usual, ate most sparingly, "scarcely enough," as Paul remarked, "to keep the parrot alive."

After dinner they went together into the great hall, where Ah Ben prepared a pipe apiece for himself and his guest.

The logs were piled high upon the hearth, and the cheery blaze lit up the old pictures with a shimmering l.u.s.tre, reducing the lamp to a mere spectral ornament. It was the flickering firelight that made the men and women on the walls nod at each other, as perhaps they had done in life.

They seated themselves in the s.p.a.cious old leather-covered pew; Ah Ben and Dorothy upon one side, while Paul sat opposite. The men were soon engaged with their pipes, while Miss Guir had settled herself upon a pile of cushions in the corner nearest the chimney.

"You have been absent from home to-day, I believe," said Henley to the old man, by way of opening the conversation, and with the hope of eliciting an answer which would throw some light upon his habits.

"Yes," Ah Ben replied, blowing a volume of smoke from under his long, white moustache; "I seldom pa.s.s the entire day in this house. There are few things that give me more pleasure than roaming alone through the forest. One seems to come in closer touch with first principles.

Nature, Mr. Henley, must be courted to be comprehended."

"I suppose so," answered Paul, not knowing what else to say, and wondering at the man's odd method of pa.s.sing the time.

A long silence followed after this, only interrupted at intervals by guttural mutterings from the parrot, which seemed to be lodged somewhere in the upper regions of the obscure stairway. When the clock struck eleven, the bird shrieked out, as upon the previous night.

"Dorothy! Dorothy! it is bed time!"

Miss Guir arose, and saying "Good night," left Ah Ben and Mr. Henley to themselves.

"I am afraid I have been very stupid," said the old man, apologetically; "indeed, I must have fallen asleep, as it is my habit to take a nap in the early evening, after which I am more wide awake than at any other hour."

"Not at all," answered Paul, "I have been enjoying my pipe, and as Miss Guir seemed disposed to be quiet, think I must have been nodding myself."

"Do you feel disposed to join me in another pipe and a midnight talk," inquired the host, "or are you inclined for bed?"

Paul was not sleepy, and nothing could have suited him better than to sit over the fire, listening to this strange man, and so he again accepted eagerly. Ah Ben seemed pleased, declaring it was a great treat to have a friend who was as much of an owl as he himself was.

And so he added fresh fuel to the dying embers, settled himself in his cosy corner by the fire, while Paul sat opposite.

"Every man must live his own life," resumed Ah Ben; "but with my temper, the better half would be blotted out, were I deprived of this quiet time for thought and reflection."

"I quite agree with you," replied Paul, "and yet the wisdom of the world is opposed to late hours."

"The wisdom of the world is based upon the experience of the _worldly prosperous_; and what is worldly prosperity but the acc.u.mulation of dollars? To be prosperous is one thing; to be happy, quite another."

"I see you are coming back to our old argument. I am sure I could never school myself to the cheerful disregard for money which you seem to have. For my part, I could not do without it, although, to be sure, I sometimes manage on very little."

"Again the wisdom of the world!" exclaimed Ah Ben, "and what has it done for us?"

"It has taught us to be very comfortable in this latter part of the nineteenth century," Paul replied.