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"And you refuse to aid me," said the major, reproachfully; "well, keep your secret, I may be able to do without your help. But," added Jen, fixing a piercing glance on the young man, "I notice that you do not ask me the name of the person who drugged Jaggard." "Nor I," said Isabella. "The major is a kind man, and he wants to see me happy. He is--" "No, missy, no. You marry, an' ole Dido am berry pleased. But dat yaller-ha'r'd man, I no like him; if he marry you, he take you away. He a fool--a big fool!".

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David spoke so fervidly that Jen saw plainly he meant what he said. The massive face of the young man looked worn and haggard in the searching light of the morning, and whatever enmity the love of the same woman had sown between him and the dead, it was not to be denied that he was suffering cruelly from remorse at their unhappy difference. Jen was sorry, but even in his own grief he could not forbear a stab. "Why aren't you dancing?" she demanded sternly, her whiskers trembling with the fervor of her interest. "What is Elinor up to that you're not dancing?" "What is that, sir?" demanded Jen, in a calmer tone. CHAPTER XVII FAREWELL TO THE STUDIO.