The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-09-02

 he had let in the night before, and would surmise that she was the person the men were looking for. Would Dan- iel betray him? He thought not. Dan- iel gave DO hint, for presently Mark saw the trio ride away to join the troop. Laura Fain had spent a night no more comfortable than Mark. The re- gponsibility of a human life weighed upon her heavily. At one moment she would picture Marks face. pale. 'hag- gard, despairing, as he would be drag ged from his hiding place. The next she was conscience stricken at the part she was playing in shielding an enemy of her cause.-the cause of her brother and her lover. She heard the dogs as Mark had heard them on the river bank, and lay shivering till the paying died away in the distance. Then ill the morning she saw the cavalry go by; the officer come up and talk with her mother, whom he asked the negroes to call from her bed that he might question her about the presence of the spy. Laura got up herself and stood at the landing, listening breathless while they talked. When the man rode away she muttered a fervent ''Thank Godp'i
 As the morning frightened and 1t was time to rise, her fears were less intense, and she began to think of how she should keep her prisoner concealed from the rest of the household. How should she feed him? When her maid came up she told her that she would take her breakfast in her room, but surprised the girl by the large quan- tity of food she wanted brought to her. When the breakfast came, Laura was up and dressed. She directed the girl to set it on table and then sent her to the stable with message to Daniel about her riding pony. Her maid hav- ing gone, Laura took up the breakfast and carried it to the trap.
 In another moment she was standing on the ladder with the tray in her the attic, regarding handsome fellow looking very much like gentleman in her brothers clothes. He in turn was regarding what he considered a very pretty picture in the half exposed figure of young girl holding tray in her hands on which he knew full well was a breakfast he was hungry for. Then he took the tray and laid 1t on the lounge.
 It was the first time that Laura had seen Mark dressed becomingly. This was the man she had been instrumen- tai in saving, the man she was pro tecting, the man she must exercise her wits to give an opportunity to get away to a land of safety from the halter. It was pleasant to see that he was good to look upon. What fine brow, what a resolute mouth! Those locks are golden and fitted for wo- mans head. The eyes are heavenly blue. And all this beauty holds soul capable of plunging into the most frightful of dangers.
 And this being, so dazzling to a young girl scarcely twenty, was in her power. Could she not at word give him over to an ignominious death? AnG could she not by care almost cer- tainly insure his freedom? He was her slave, bound to her far more se- curely than Alice, her maid, who had been given her by her father. She could order him to crawl on the floor before her, and he would have to do so. She had once seen a woman enter cage of a lion with only slender whip in her hand, and the huge beast haI h1~ cIs soh Mark was her lion, and she felt in- clined to give him just one touch of the whip to see what he would do. She stepped into the room and let down the trap.
 Miss Fain," Mark said, "you can not have any conception of the fervor of my gratitude. You stapd between me and death-not the death of sol dier, but of, a felon. And here," point ing to the breakfast, "you are minis tering to my wants with your own hands,"
 "And yet I told you not to come here.''
 q did not understand you so. am sorry that you regret your kindness, :" he added, with almost tremble in his voice.
 'T did not say that regretted it.' "But you remind me that it is not agreeable to you"
 "How can it be? You are Yankee "a spy--and on mission to discover the movements of our troops"
 'Why, then, do you not give me up?''
 She shrugged her shoulders. Gan turn executonerT'
 T sec I am indebted for my pres ent safety to the fact that you do not care to do an unwomanly act"
 "You must draw your own infer ence."
 But I should like to be grateful How can when you tell me that you do all this for me that your white hands may not have stain upon | them?'
 'It is not necessary that you should | feel grateful
 Mark studied her face for a moment earnestly. Then his manner changed.
 Miss Fain," he said, pointing, "take | away the breakfast
 "Why so?" she asked, startled. | i will not be under any further ob- 1 Hgation to one who acts from pride rather than sweet charity. You have | saved me from the hounds and from the gallows. Were it not for you l