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He piled on all the sticks he had and watched the flames mount higher and higher until the whole doorway was a sheet of roaring fire.,

“But why do you invite poor old folks like us?” asked Olava.,

This maneuver was executed without mishap and the only person who saw him go in was the Mexican cook, who paid little attention.,

And all at once the truth smote him: he ought not to have done this; he had known all the time that he ought not, and yet—he had done it.

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This incident occasioned Julia much alarm. She could not but believe that the men whom she had seen were spies of the marquis;—if so, her asylum was discovered, and she had every thing to apprehend. Madame now judged it necessary to the safety of Julia, that the Abate should be informed of her story, and of the sanctuary she had sought in his monastery, and also that he should be solicited to protect her from parental tyranny. This was a hazardous, but a necessary step, to provide against the certain danger which must ensue, should the marquis, if he demanded his daughter of the Abate, be the first to acquaint him with her story. If she acted otherwise, she feared that the Abate, in whose generosity she had not confided, and whose pity she had not solicited, would, in the pride of his resentment, deliver her up, and thus would she become a certain victim to the Duke de Luovo.,

Panting, struggling, gasping, he fought on. His mind was filled with the horror of what would happen should he be too late. There was no way of telling how far Miguel had gone. The dam that kept him hidden from the Mexican, also hid the Mexican from him. He must—he must go on until he was well past the center of the dam—Miguel would do the job thoroughly if at all. Once there he must go through a fresh ordeal. He must climb out of the water and look over the edge of the dam in order to get his bearings and to find out where the Mexican had lit the fuse. Should he look over at the wrong spot and Miguel see him, it was the end—the end probably of his life and surely the finish of the coffer dam.,

“Ugh, how wet I am!” said Johnny, and then,,

Not another thing was to be found in that garden—not a decent sugar pea nor a carrot even; just some stupid mignonette and violets and other flowers that smelled sweet—as if they were any good! No, truly, Aunt Grenertsen’s garden was not very pleasant.