CHAPTER XXX.

A TERRIBLE DEED.

John Franklin's manly blood had boiled with resentment at seeing poor

Dainty driven away in disgrace from the home of which she was virtually

the mistress, for he believed every word of the story she had told Mrs.

Ellsworth.

It made his kind heart ache to realize so fully the sad mental plight of

his young master, who could sit by in apathy, and suffer such a cruel

wrong to be done to his unfortunate young wife.

He gloried in the pride that had made her fling back in the woman's face

the offered pittance from her cruel persecutor.

"Yet, poor soul, she looked shabby and penniless. Perhaps she had not

the money to pay her fare to Richmond. I wonder if the unfortunate young

lady would accept a loan from her husband's servant?" he thought,

anxiously.

It pained him to think of her going out into the darkness of the night,

friendless and shelterless, knowing how well his master had loved her,

and how worthy she was of that love.

He decided that it was his duty to follow her and proffer his services

if she needed them, though in so clandestine a manner that wicked Mrs.

Ellsworth need not find it out and revenge herself by cruelty to his

master.

Leaving Love presently to the care of another attendant, he slipped away

through the grounds to the road, wondering which way the unhappy

wanderer had gone.

A little incident ended his perplexity.

While pausing under the shade of a tree, gazing anxiously up and down

the road, he suddenly saw the cousins Olive and Ela, skulking like

criminals out in the dusky woodland path that led to old mammy's cabin;

and the light of the rising moon on their faces showed them pallid and

scared-looking, as if pursued by threatening fiends. Clasping each

other's hands, and panting with excitement, they fled across the road to

the gates of Ellsworth, without perceiving that they were detected in

something underhand by the lynx eyes of a suspicious watcher.

"They have been up to some mischief, and I will find it out if I can,"

he thought, darting into the woodland path, and following it with alert

eyes until suddenly the darkness was illuminated by the glare of fire,

and rushing forward, he discovered old mammy's cabin wrapped in flames.

A startled cry burst from the man's lips as a terrible suspicion drove

the bounding blood coldly back upon his heart.

Had the deserted cabin been fired by Olive and Ela?

If so, what had been their motive? Something very important surely, for

conscious guilt had looked from their pale faces, had marked their

skulking flight from the scene.

If Dainty Chase had gone to the cabin to seek refuge with the old black

woman, their motive was not hard to fathom, and as Franklin bounded

toward the scene of the fire, it all flashed over his mind like

lightning.

The life of Dainty was a menace to Mrs. Ellsworth and her nieces, for if

she could prove her marriage to Lovelace Ellsworth on the middle of

July, she would wrest from his step-mother the wealth she claimed by

reason of his failure to marry before his birthday, and in which she was

making her nieces joint sharers.

Yes, all three of them had a terrible interest in the girl's death; the

man realized it fully.

And Mrs. Ellsworth but a little while ago had given him a deep insight

into her evil nature.

Perhaps she had sent her nieces--as wicked as herself--to follow poor

Dainty and devise means for getting her out of the way.

It was horrible to think of such a crime, but he made haste to verify

his suspicions by darting around to an end window not yet wreathed in

the leaping flames and peering into the house, though the heat scorched

him and the smoke was stifling.

He drew back with a cry of horror and indignation.

Yes, Dainty was there!

On gaining the shelter of the cabin, seeking the protection of the old

mammy, whom she counted as her only friend, the girl, in her grief and

sorrow and cruel disappointment at finding the place untenanted, had

sunk into a heavy swoon on the hard floor.

Doubtless her cruel rivals, following and beholding her piteous plight,

had seen their opportunity and taken instant advantage of it.

Roused from her unconsciousness by the crackling flames and stifling

smoke, the girl was just rising from the floor, and the despair on her

face as she comprehended her terrible environment would haunt John

Franklin to his dying day.

The great, sublime pity that rose to flood-tide in the man's tender

heart submerged every thought of self in an instant.

No escape seemed possible for Dainty. The inflammable log cabin was

surrounded by fire, and she stood in the center of the awful glare like

some pale, beautiful martyr at the stake.

Franklin caught up a great bowlder from the ground and dashed it again

and again against the sash till it was broken in, then, stripping off

his coat, muffled his head in it, and sprang like a hero through smoke

and flame to the rescue of his master's bride, catching her up in his

strong arms, and bearing her, after a fierce conflict with the fire,

back through the broken sash to life and safety.

And not a moment too soon, for the roof of the cabin crashed in on the

burning walls ere he had staggered three yards from the scene of his

heroic deed, and the fierce flames, leaping higher, conveyed to two

anxious watchers at Ellsworth the news that they had succeeded in their

damnable crime.

Franklin realized that it was best to let them hug that belief to their

hearts, so all that he did afterward that night was under the veil of

secrecy.

He succeeded in getting an old buggy and conveying Dainty to the

station, where he placed her on the midnight train and bought her a

ticket for Richmond.

No one but black mammy was let into the secret, and unseen by any one in

the gloom of the midnight hour and in the scarcity of travel that night,

she was sent on her way to her mother, Franklin saying to her earnestly:

"Let me advise you, Mrs. Ellsworth, to keep close to your mother, and

away from the fiendish enemies who are seeking to compass your death. I

will take the best care of your husband, and may God send him recovery

from his hurt, that he may restore you to your rightful position, and

punish the wretches who have wronged you both!"