Spring deepened into summer and still Lyttleton lingered in Chillicothe, though with no apparent object unless it might be the hope of winning Miss Lamar. He continued to be a constant visitor at the major's, welcomed by him and Clare, but seeing little of Nell, who took particular pains to avoid him, by going out at such times as he was likely to call, or busying herself in another part of the house when he was in the parlor.

He noticed this with anger and chagrin, yet as we have said, difficulty of attainment only increased his estimate of the value of the prize he sought; and suspecting, in his egregious self-conceit and egoism, her conduct to he merely an affectation of coyness with the purpose to bring him to a formal declaration of love, for how could any woman resist such fascination as his of person, manner and fortune, he determined to seize the first opportunity to make her an offer of heart and hand.

With that end in view he dropped in one day at the major's just at tea time; ostensibly for the purpose of inquiring if they had heard a piece of news that was creating some little excitement in the town, and sure of an invitation to stay and partake with them of the evening meal.

The news was concerning Wawillaway's assassin, the dastardly ruffian Wolf. He had fled to Kentucky to escape the merited punishment of his crime at the hands of the two sons of the murdered chief, who, in accordance with the Indian code, making it the right and duty of the nearest of kin to kill the slayer of their relative, had vowed vengeance upon him.

The murderer may, however, purchase his life at a price agreed upon by the family of his victim, and Wolf had employed an agent to make terms with the two young men.

It was now announced that these terms had been agreed upon, and the business would be concluded by an interesting ceremony at Old Town, to take place the following day.

Lyttleton had heard several gentlemen say they meant to be present and to take their wives or sweethearts with them, and had determined that he too would go, if possible as Miss Lamar's escort.

But Dale had the start of him this time, as on several former occasions, and was already in the major's parlor, discussing the news with the family, and engaged to conduct Miss Nell to see the ceremony, when Lyttleton came in; as the latter presently learned from the conversation.

He was disappointed and angry, but so sure of success in his more important errand that he comforted himself with the thought that this was Dale's last chance to serve him such a trick.

Dale, for his part, had no idea that any such calamity awaited Nell or himself, and having a little urgent business matter to attend to, went away shortly after tea to which both callers had been hospitably invited, in a very cheerful frame of mind, leaving the field to Lyttleton.

He knew the Englishman to be a rival, but did not consider him a dangerous one; and at all events Nell was secured to himself for the coming day.

Clare, though at one time quite sure that Dr. Clendenin and Nell cared for each other, had now entirely given up the idea of ever seeing them united. She could not worm out the facts from Nell, but concluded that there must have been an irreconcilable quarrel.

"Well, she was not sorry, for this Englishman was certainly very much in love, and would make a better match, from a worldly point of view at least." So she did what lay in her power to favor and advance his suit.

Something in his look or manner told her of his purpose to-night, and she contrived that the two should be left alone in the parlor soon after Dale's departure.

Lyttleton seized the opportunity at once, poured out passionate expressions of love, and in plain words asked Nell to become his wife.

She tried in vain to stop him, he would be heard to the end.

"Mr. Lyttleton," she said, rising with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, "I thank you for the honor you have done me, but I cannot entertain such a proposition for a moment. Nay, hear me out," as he seemed about to enter a protest, "even as you have compelled me to hear you. I would have spared you the pain of a rejection, but you would not let me."

"My dear Miss Nell—Miss Lamar," he stammered, "it cannot be that I hear aright! or if I do that you understand what it is that you are rejecting. I will say nothing"—with an affectation of humility—"of any charms of person or address that some may attribute to your humble servant, but an honored and ancient name, an assured position among the English gentry, fine estate, large fortune—"

She interrupted him, drawing herself up to her full height, while her eyes flashed and her cheek crimsoned with indignation.

"If I ever marry, Mr. Lyttleton, it shall be neither position nor estate—least of all money."

"What more can you ask, pray?" he inquired, folding his arms and throwing back his head with an air of hauteur.

"Something of infinitely greater worth," she replied, her eyes kindling, "infinitely better and higher; the love and confidence of a true and noble heart, the heart of a man who lives not for himself, but for others, who is not content to pass his days in inglorious ease and idleness, but does with his might what his hands find to do to glorify God and benefit his fellow men."

"Clendenin, curse him!" he muttered between his clinched teeth.

Her quick ear caught the words not meant for it.

"Yes," she said, with a peculiar smile, "Dr. Clendenin answers the description very well, but not he alone; I am thankful to say there are others among my countrymen who do."

"Your countrymen! always your countrymen," he blazed out growing very red and angry; "a set of clodhoppers who are obliged to earn their bread by the sweat of their brows. Mark my words, miss, you'll see the day when you would be very glad to share the inglorious ease of a member of the favored class denominated the English gentry."

"No, sir," she answered with spirit, "I am heart and soul an American, and our differing nationalities would be an insuperable objection to the acceptance of your offer were there none other."

At which, boiling with rage and disappointment, he hastily caught up his hat and left the house.

Nell's conscience pricked her with the reminder that those last words were untrue; since, had Lyttleton been an American, and Kenneth an Englishman, it would have made no difference in her feelings toward either.

Lyttleton hurried on through the streets and out into the country beyond, neither knowing nor caring in his rage and disappointment what direction he took. All he wanted was to avoid observation until he could recover his accustomed self-control; lest otherwise the story of his rejection should be bruited about and himself treated to scorn and ridicule in consequence.

Unconsciously he struck into the trail that led to Old Town.

The sun had set, but there was yet sufficient light to show him the stalwart figure of a huntsman with his gun on his shoulder and a string of birds in his hand, coming to meet him.

Lyttleton stood still for a moment, debating in his own mind whether to go on or to retrace his steps, when the other called out in a well-known voice,

"Dat you, mynheer? It ish goot you haf come. I have some dings der dell you."

"What things, Hans?" asked Lyttleton moving on to meet his valet, to whom he had given permission for a day's sport in the woods.

"I dells you pooty quick, mynheer," returned Hans close at his side; then went on to relate how he had fallen in with a party of Indians on their way to Old Town to take part in the coming ceremony, and that they had among them a white woman who seemed, from her looks and actions, to have been with them a long while.

Lyttleton listened eagerly, and when Hans had finished his story, tried to elicit further information by asking questions in regard to the height, complexion, demeanor, and apparent age of the woman.

When these had all been answered. "It may be she," he said musingly as if thinking aloud; then in a quick, determined way, "Hans, you must take me at once to see this woman. It may prove of the greatest importance that I should see and talk with her this very night."

Hans, already weary and footsore with his day's tramp, would have greatly preferred to move on to Chillicothe and get a warm supper at the General Anthony Wayne, followed by a lounge on the bench before the bar-room door. Accordingly he showed some unwillingness to obey the order.

It was, however, speedily overcome by the offer of double wages for that week. He turned about at once and by the light of the moon, just rising over the tree tops, the two followed the trail till it brought them to the Indian town, where after some search they found the object of their quest seated alone at the door of her wigwam, smoking a pipe and seemingly wrapped in meditation, enjoying the moonlight and the cool evening breeze which was particularly refreshing after the day.

Lyttleton accosted her courteously in English, and she answered in the same tongue, inviting him to take a seat on the bearskin by her side.

"Thank you, I do not wish to crowd you, I will sit here," he said, appropriating a stump close at hand. Hans, by his master's direction, had refrained from approaching very near, and was resting himself on a fallen tree a few hundred yards distant.

He saw that Lyttleton and the woman were soon in earnest conversation, but could not hear the words spoken.

Some of the Indians were nearer, but few of them had any knowledge of English, the language used by both speakers during the interview, most of them none at all, and only from looks, tones and gestures, could they gather any hint of the subject of the conference.

It lasted for a full hour; then Lyttleton rose and stood before the woman, talking and gesticulating with great earnestness. He seemed to be vehemently urging some request which she was inclined to deny; at length he drew out a silken purse full of broad gold pieces which glittered in the moonlight as he held it up.

"Promise me," he said, "and this is yours; keep your promise till I see you again and it shall be doubled."

"Give it me then," she cried, stretching out an eager hand.

"You promise?"

"Yes, yes; why not?"

He dropped it into her open palm, saying impressively, "Remember. Now, good-bye," and turned exultingly to go on his way.

"Stay," she cried.

"Well, what more?" he asked facing her again, "is it not enough?"

"Yes; but you have not told me who you are, or why you—"

"It does not matter; all you have to do is to follow my directions," he interrupted somewhat haughtily, and strode rapidly away.

"Your errand shpeed so petter as goot, mynheer?" queried Hans as they struck into the trail again.

"I flatter myself it will all come out right in the end, Hans," was the reply; then there was a muttered word or two that sounded like an imprecation upon some absent person, with a threat of vengeance for some real or fancied injury.

Chillicothe seemed sleeping when they re-entered it; the streets were silent and deserted, the houses closed and dark; only from the bar-room window of the General Anthony Wayne gleamed the light of a single tallow candle. Master and man entered there without noise or bustle and presently slipped quietly away to the room of the former.