THE MAN APPROACHED AND LAID HIS HAND HEAVILY UPON MY SHOULDER. IN ANOTHER INSTANT HE WAS SPRAWLING MY ENEMY. BY CHARLES LOTIN HILDRETH. "WHAT are you doing here, sir?" The voice was a inous gray, met mine with a gleam of something like woman's, but the intonation was almost masculine in its menace in their clear depths. Her dark-brown hair, with abrupt asperity. I turned about upon my campstool a golden glimmer in its ripples, rendered yet more reand gazed at the speaker, forgetting to reply in my sur-markable the extreme, but not unhealthy, paleness of her prise and admiration. Scarcely more than twenty, the girl who stood before me was taller than the average height of women, and in its close-fitting riding-habit of dark-green, her figure seemed wellnigh flawless. The face which looked down upon me would have been strikingly beautiful, but for the cold, repellent expression of pride and severity which seemed habitual to it. The delicate brows were drawn together in a frown of impatience, and the eyes, of a lumVol. XXV., No. 4-26. complexion. On the whole, I decided, as I continued to gaze at her in silence, a face full of power and command, but not attractive. After a moment she repeated her question, with an added touch of sharpness in her tone. "I asked you what you were doing here?" "Why," I responded, coolly, for I was a little irritated by her manner, "I am sketching, as you may observe. Have you any objections ?" "I have," she said, with decision. "I allow no tres- | face, I quietly collected my painting materials, and, liftpassers upon my property." "Your property !" I exclaimed. strop, then ?" ing my hat to her with studied politeness, walked lei "You are Miss Ba- surely away. The cottage where I was stopping, formerly the dwelling of my father's gardener, was, with the six acres surrounding it, the last remnant of the once extensive Hastings estate. Even this, it now appeared, was to be wrested from me. My servant handed me a letter from my lawyer, which informed me that again judgment had been entered against me, and that, in a few days at most, I should be dispossessed. Well, let it go with the rest. The long agony would be over at last. I should have no more to lose, my enemy no more to gain. The bitter persecution which had robbed me, piece by piece, of my ancestral domain, had been begun by old Lionel Bastrop, proprietor of the adjoining estate, during my father's lifetime. Bastrop's claim, which was as unjust as it was absurd, was founded upon an obscure grant, made some two centuries before. There had never been the vaguest doubt of the Hastings title, until, sear hing "Waldo Hastings !" she exclaimed, advancing a step for evidence, an important link was found to be missing. toward me, in evident agitation. I bowed coldly. "I perceive," said I, sarcastically, "that you recognize my right involuntarily. I had not expected so prompt a concession of it from you." "I concede nothing," she replied, angrily; "I shall not discuss this or any other question with you. You are an intruder here, and I command you to go at once." "Of all these acres, which were once mine," I said, bitterly, "you have left me nothing. You have made me an outcast from the home of my childhood and a trespasser upon my own patrimony. And now you deny me the simple privilege of revisiting, as an alien, the scenes which I loved when their ownership was unquestioned. Truly this is hard measure!" "If you had asked permission- -"she began, somewhat hesitatingly. "No, madam," I interrupted; "to have asked permission to enter these grounds would have been to admit your right, which I shall never do while I live." "How dare you speak to me so !" she exclaimed, her anger flashing forth again. "I command you to leave this place at once, or "Or what ?" "I will have you expelled by force," she answered, Laughtily. "There I should, indeed, recognize your father's daughter," I retorted, contemptuously. "Force should naturally follow fraud." She drew in her breath quickly. My taunt had goaded her proud spirit beyond all bounds. "Carter, come here." She beckoned to one of the keepers who had been loitering at a little distance. "Show this person out of the gate. If he resist, compel him to go." It was an old deed, and was known to have been kept in a casket among the family papers; but it could not now be found, and Bastrop, a hard, grasping, avaricious old man, had pressed his advantage to the utmost. Worn out and heartbroken, my poor father died, followed six months later by the enemy, whose inveterate persecution had shortened his life and ruined his fortunes. But he left a worthy representative in his only daughter. Old Bastrop had been an iron foe, but compared with her, he had been generosity itself. She seemed inspired by an implacable determination to accomplish my utter destruction, pursuing me with a malevolence as untiring as it was relentless. Every attempt at compromise was met with a harsh denial. Her enmity to me was all the more remarkable since we had never met until to-day; my defense having been carried on by my lawyer, during my sojourn in Italy. His letter concluded with the siguificant sentence: "As the case stands, I see no hope for you. If the missing deed could be found at this juneture, not only would you recover all you have lost, but, what with costs and damages entailed by a reversal of the decisions, Miss Bastrop would be reduced to comparative poverty." I saw nothing of my beautiful enemy for some days. But one morning, a week after my first encounter with her, my old servant came hastily into the room where I was at work, with the information that the sheriff and his men were at the gate. Arising and stepping to the door, I was confronted by that official, with a peremptory demand for possession of the place in the name of the owner, Miss Leonie Bastrop. Some mad impulse of resistance entered my mind for a moment, but looking over the official's shoulder, I saw Miss Bastrop herself, seated upon her horse, calmly surveying the scene, and it died away in a feeling cold, hopeless resentment. Bidding the man do his duty, I walked over to where she was. She flushed slightly, and then turned very pale, as she saw me coming, but The man hesitated, and looked doubtfully at his remained motionless, with compressed lips. mistress. "Take care," I said, in a suppressed, voice. I am a gentleman. If this indignity is put upon me, "I will not answer for the consequences." His reluctance seemed to irritate her still more. "Do what I have told you!" she exclaimed, stamping her small foot upon the ground. The man approached and laid his hand heavily upon my shoulder. In another instant he was sprawling among the brambles of a dry ditch near at hand, where I had thrown him. Then, without a word to his mistress, who stood mute and motionless, with a colorless "You have come to witness the final act in the drama," I said, with a bitter smile. "This humble roof was the last shelter in the world which I could call my own. To-day you drive me forth, homeless, friendless and penniless. Are you satisfied with your work?" A withered, crafty-looking personage, whom I took to be her lawyer, interposed at this point. "All quite legal and regular," he said. "Due notice to quit was given. Ah yes. All quite regular." I turned my back upon him without reply, and gazed at the sheriff's men, who were busily removing my few shabby articles of furniture from the cottage, with rage and despair tugging at my heart. Some faint emotion of shame or remorse seemed to touch the woman who had brought ruin upon me, for she suddenly leaned forward and said, in a low, unsteady voice : "Mr. Hastings, I may not be as hard as I seem. Acknowledge that I am the rightful owner of this place, and there shall be no further question of your removal." Something peculiar in her voice affected me, in spite of the dark thoughts at work within me. I turned and looked at her in surprise. "I do not"— she hesitated and turned paler-"it is not my wish to be unjust to you. It is a matter of principle." I managed, by dint of hard work, to support myself and the old servant, who persisted in remaining with me, though I could pay him but a mere pittance. I contrived, too, to keep my horse, and my sole pleasure in those unhappy days was the long rides 1 took among the hills.. More than once, during these expeditions, I met Miss Rastrop, either on horseback or in her carriage. On these occasions no signs of recognition passed between us, though several times, when I came upon her suddenly, I saw her cheeks grow pale and her lips compress themselves. Cold and hard as she might be, it was evident that she could not face the man she had so cruelly wronged without agitation. On my part, I was at a loss to understand my own feeling toward her. Surely if ever hatred were justifiable, I had cause to hate her. Yet I did not hate her. In the course of time my first keen resentment died away. I even found excuses for the wrong she had done me. "You really ask me to admit that the monstrous wrong which you and your father have done me and mine is Day after day found me loitering along the road where right and proper ?" I asked, with quiet scorn. "No, Miss I knew she would pass, merely to obtain a hasty glimpse Bastrop, not if life itself were at stake.' of her face. Awaking, at length, to the folly of my She drew herself up, and her mouth closed in a hard, actions, I resolved to break loose from the fatal fascinastern line. tion which had grown upon me unawares. If I was not already in love with this enemy of my house, I was dangerously near it. Every instinct of my manhood revolted against my own stupendous folly. Cost what it would, I determined to tear myself away from her neighhood, and, in the struggle and hardship of life in the great city, cure myself of my madness. "It must go on to the end, then," she replied, coldly. "I am my father's daughter. Any terms but those I offer would wrong his memory. I know my duty, and will do it at all hazards." At this moment there was a violent commotion in the stables, and one of the sheriff's men appeared, leading a horse by the halter, while my servant tugged at the animal's mane, uttering cries for help. "Mr. Hastings, they are taking Ahmed!-help! help!" I started forward, with an exclamation of anger and alarm. Ahmed was a valuable Arabian, a gift from my poor father and the sole relic of my happier days. Through every misfortune I had clung to him, and he had grown dear to me as a tried and trusted friend—ay, a friend who had remained faithful when all others fell away with my falling fortunes. I loved the beautiful creature, and a pang of actual misery smote me as I reflected that he, too, might be taken from me in the persecution which had robbed me of all else. I whistled, and the noble animal, answering with a neigh, shook off the detaining hauds and trotted up to me. Placing my hand upon his neck, I turned and faced Miss Bastrop and the lawyer defiantly. 66 'Keep your horse," she said; and again I heard that strangely softened tone vibrating in her voice. "We shall not dispute your right to him, Mr. Hastings." I bowed and turned away. Bidding my servant secure my canvases and painting materials, and taking the small cabinet, containing my family papers, under my own arm, I called to the horse and went out of the gate, leaving the remainder of my possessions at the mercy of the sheriff and his men. I found temporary lodgings in the village, where I installed myself until I could decide what to do. My position was gloomy enough. My means were exhausted, and an unknown artist, without friends or connections, is but poorly armed for the bitter struggle for existence. Still In a melancholy mood I mounted Ahmed for a last ride among the hills, on the day before that set for my departure. In spite of my better judgment, I took the road which led past her dwelling. I could not deny myself one final look upon that beautiful face which to me had always been, and must henceforth be, the symbol of misfortune, sorrow and despair. Snow had fallen during the previous night, but the afternoon was clear and cold, and the sky, visible through the ice-fringed branches overhead, shone with a keen, dazzling azure. The road wound along the side of the mountain, with a high bluff on one side and the precipitous slope of the hill on the other. Midway between the village and the Bastrop mansion it dipped downward at a steep incline, and taking a sharp turn, almost at right angles, crossed a narrow bridge spanning a deep gorge. The stout wooden railing which had formerly defended this portion of the road had fallen to decay, and vehicles descending the hill were compelled to go slowly to avoid plunging over the brink into the gulf below. To-day, coated as it was with a smooth surface of frozen snow, it was more than usually dangerous, and several times, surefooted as he was, my horse slipped, and would have fallen but for a prompt pull at the bridle. I had ridden onward some distance when the faint sound of sleigh-bells caught my ear, and drawing up at one side of the road, I waited for their approach. The sound seemed to advance with unaccountable rapidity. And now mingled with their musical chime was the confused trampling of hoofs, as of horses driven at a reckless speed. In another moment the sleigh appeared in sight, coming on at a furious rate. The driver was not in his seat, and the loose reins lashed the maddened horses, which were evidently running away, to a still wilder pace. The light vehicle swung from side to side, every instant threatening to dash its single occupant, in whom I recognized Leonie Bastrop, to certain destruction. Deadly pale, and with rigid features, she crouched upon the |