‘Oh, but you do not know,’ she answered, her
beautiful eyes filling with tears 1 And so it is
as she feared ; some ono has harmed her, and
that one is William Cato! Have a care, Mr.
Cato, for Malvern Hill is on your trail, and
woe be uuto you if I run you down, for as sure
as I love Annabel Cato, if you bo guilty of
this atrocious act you will land in tho home
provided for all of your stripe—tho peniten
tiary!”
11.
Time wore on. Days had lengthened into
weeks, weeks into months, months into years.
Four years and a half had passed, and no
tidings of Annabel Cato. Tlio episode had
almost been forgotten. Searching parties had
scoured tho country far and near. Malvern
Hill alone kept, up the search. Foor Malvern!
the mental strain had been almost more than
ho could boar, yot lie kept going, never stop
ping-first here, then there- now in a city,
now in the deep, dark recesses of tho moun
tains—anywhere, everywhere—only to find the
ono who was now a thousand times dearer
than lite itself. Ho seemed to have grown
twenty years older during those four short
years.
Sitting alone in his room ono day, with his
face buried in liis hands, Malvern was aroused
from his miserable reverie by a rapping on the
door.
“Como in,” he answered, somewhat slowly.
Evidently the visitor did not hoar the sum
mons, for Malvern arose and, opening the door,
admitted -William Cato, who, blandly smiling
and extending his hand, said:
' “Hullo, Hill. How’s out health today ?”
“Moderately welt, thank you," answered
[ Malvern, offering his visitor a chair. “And
yours?”
i "Oh, lovely. lovely -never bettor!”
t A moment 's silence, broken by Cato.
