Omaha daily bee., 1903-03-01

rations, ever since the time when, while
yet a young subaltcrn in "Leven's Foot"
Colonel Ardmillan had been accustomed to
lift her high in the air in both hands, or
ride her till she screamed with delight upon
the uppers Of his military boot.
Yet for all her ease Of mind as to men.
Frances smiled, not ill-pleased as she
thought Of that day among the Namur corn,
by the side OF the sunken road, when at the
parting Of a bush Of broom an eager-eyed
youth OF handsome aspect had stood dumb
stricken before her-the fullness of his
homage presently mounting to his brow
and telling It's tale in the stammerlng &C
cents of his tongue. Maurice Raith also
smiled, as II a good angel had visited him
in sleep. And so. perhaps, it wasl
As Frances sat at the window and
watched the late moon rise, she was
aware Of a Crouching line OF dark figures
that d~isengaged themselves one by one from
the rude wall of the mountain village and
stole across the space which separated the
last houses from the outer defenses. For
a long moment each bowed head and bent
pair Of shoulders we're silhouetted against
the great iattened oval Of the moon as It
reared itself slowly up out Of the valley
mists. A gunbarrel rose black here and
CIV ~ oNoubdIu Nliuhtu. Shdi ply Oh n
pebble, or in the distance as the light fell
more sideways, a slant bayonet cleaned
momentarily.
Frances and her father had reached the
country of the Cevennes in the simplest and
swiftest way, by the Rhine and the Protest
ant cantons OF Switzerland. The pastors of
Geneva and the political leaders of that
place had their own means of communi-
eating with the districts where their fellow
religionists continued to make such sue
cessful head against the forces of the king
and the ~all-pUwerful church. II was easy
enough, therefore, for Patrick Wildwood
and his daughter to pass into the fast
nesses of the Cevennes nearly a month
before a certain Pierre, the wagner of
Rocha IA Bayard and Hoo made his en-
campment upon its outer margin.
Nevertheless that night, so mysterious
are the waves of apprehension which pass
across certain sensitive spirits, Frances
Wildwood, n maid of camps and barrack
yards, felt something that was not the
chill Of the hoar frost run cold through
her marrow at the sight of these dark
shadows crossing the ashen oval of the
moons disk.
AS they passed from her view she went
| quickly to her fathers room. The door
was Unattached. She went in without knock
ing and, pausing a moment on the threshold
to Listen in vain for his breathing, at last
entered on tiptoe. The bed vas intact. 1t
had not been slept in.
He is not here!" she rmure step
ping back quickly.
! Frances had bound her father by a great
oath not to 60 out alone and wander about
hour after hour as was his habit-ever
since he had we'll nigh been shot by one
Of the camp sentries at a former siege OF
Namur.
Either he has broken his word or has
taken to dreaming again" she murmured
to herself %unhappily.
Frances stood a moment thinking swiftly.
Then she went to the corner OF her cham
Der and. taking down a dark fold Of Spanish
lace, threw 1t about her head. drawing It
round her neck in the manner of a man
tilla. Then, since the night promired to be
cold, she drew her fathers great cloak
about her. The window was high, and save
to an athlete impossible. though in all con-
science the stone work Of the old wall
built by the Templars was crumbling
enough. But Frances Wildwood knew an
other way of IL. Her father had gone out,
and by the same road he had taken she
could descend also. She was positive he
had not passed her door-she had been too
wide awake.
She remembered, however, that the low
archway which her father used for an en-
trance into his prayer niche had a door
that opened somewhither, and accordingly
she turned back there and set her hand
upon the latch, easily pushing the iron
bound portal open. She came up against
the outer dark as against a wall and found
herself at the head of an outside stair,
which las in many of the houses Of the
eastern part of her native land) connects
the second and even the third story Of
houses in the Cevennes with the ground.
When she had time to look, 10! the stars
were blinking merrily. The heat haze in
the valley had altogether vanished and
there was a smell and piercing breath of
frost abroad.
Still there was neither sight nor sound
OF her father.
Frances stood still as death while one
might count twenty, listening. Every
where there was great silence. The black
windows OF the Mamisard village beneath
seemed to be spying upon her. The streets
OF La Cavalerie were narrow, irregular and
drowned in deep shadow. The moon, grown
old and sickly OF aspect, seemed unable to
make her pale beams penetrate. Her light
sifted down scarce brighter than so much
starshine,
But Flower-o'-the-Cor had set her hand
TO the pillow, and she would not go back.
Resolutely she drew her cloak about her
and set forth 10 look for her father. He
had taken his little red double volume Cow
enanter's Bible with him. she had made
sure of that. So IT appeared to France
that the errand upon which he had gone
must be a religious one. Indeed at that
hour, and in that place. Il was not likely
that he would have gone forth on any other.
But the old lighting blood Of the man who
had ridden With Grey OF Cryston and the
two Camerons al Ayrsmoss might possibly
have persuaded HIM that Il was still a re-
ligious duty to hew Agag In pieces before.
the Lord. In short, Patrick WellwoLd's
mission might very well be religious with
out being at all pacific.
Swiftly and lightly she glided up one
narrow close md down another, till she
found herself within the outer belt Of gar
deus whose multitudinous intersecting
walls made such excellent forecove- to
these Puritan peasants. militant among the
high Cevennes.
She had often enough found her way out
Of tho labyrinth by day, 1t was a task
more difacuIt nv NIGHT. But with a keen