"Oh, Ronald—Ronald!"

"Lina, my little darling!" and Ronald Valchester drew his betrothed into his arms, and pressed a score of fond kisses on the dewy, crimson lips.

It was the day before the wedding, and though Jaquelina had been expecting him all the morning, he had taken her by surprise at last.

After dinner she had gone out into the orchard and sat down beneath her favorite tree, feeling certain that Ronald would seek her there first. But after watching for him vainly for awhile, she fell into a dreamy revery in which he came unseen and unheard at last.

He sat down beside her, letting his arm remain about the slender waist, and with the beauty and silence of nature all about them, they talked of their happiness in meeting again, and of the coming morrow, when they should be united to part no more.

"It seems too blissful to be true," Jaquelina murmured wistfully, looking up in her lover's happy face. "Oh, Ronald, if anything should happen?"

"What could happen, Lina?" said Ronald Valchester, laughing at her fears. "I hope you are not growing nervous and fanciful, little one."

Then he suddenly saw that the bright rose-flush that had come into her face when she met him was dying out, and leaving her pale and wistful-looking.

"Lina, you do not look quite so well as usual," he said, anxiously. "You are paler than I ever saw you, and your eyes have a startled expression now and then. It seems to me that you are slightly nervous. Are you not well?"

"I am perfectly well," she replied, quickly; but his attention once awakened, he could not help seeing that there was a slight and subtle change in her.

She would start and look around at the rustle of the falling leaves that began to strew the orchard with a carpeting of scarlet and russet and gold. Every time the great mellow globes of winter apples would fall into the grass, she would look up quickly, with something like fear in her eyes. It was plain to be seen, as Ronald Valchester had said, that she was nervous.

As his gaze dwelt on her, full of tender solicitude, she was tempted to tell him of that night, two weeks ago, when she had been so startled and frightened by the sudden appearance and menacing words of Gerald Huntington. A haunting dread and terror had possessed her ever since.

She waked at night from startling dreams, in which the lowering gaze and the clanking irons of the escaped prisoner were so terribly real that she could scarcely persuade herself that it had only been a vision of her slumber.

Her nights were restless, her days were filled with dread. She was afraid to dwell too much on her love and her happiness. She remembered that the outlaw had said he would take his revenge in the moment that was the happiest of her life.

Yet she shrank from telling Ronald Valchester the truth. She had noticed that he seemed to dislike the mention of Gerald Huntington. He had never praised her as others did for capturing the outlaw. He had never even told her whether he thought she had acted right or wrong in the matter. She decided that she would not tell him. She had never told anyone of her adventure that night, though the whole country was excited over the second, and this time successful, escape of the prisoner.

"My mother came with me," he said, after a little. "She was fatigued with travel, and did not feel like calling on you to-day, but to-morrow I shall bring her to see you. She claims the privilege of dressing the bride."

The lovely color came surging up into Jaquelina's pale cheeks at her lover's words.

"Oh! you do not know how I dread the ordeal of to-morrow night," she whispered to him. "All the country people will be crowded into the little church, and—only think—I must walk up the aisle before them all to be—married!"

Ronald Valchester laughed at her pretty bashfulness.

"To-morrow night will be a slight ordeal to what you will have to encounter in the way of people when I take you home to Richmond," he replied. "I have never told you yet, my darling, that we are very wealthy. I was pleased to think that you loved me for myself alone. But the truth is, Lina, my father is a millionaire, and you will enter the highest rank of society when you become my bride. After we have been married awhile, and you have learned something of the world, I shall take you with me on a tour to Europe. Shall you like that, my dearest?"

"Very much," Lina replied, delightedly.

He did not tell her that his father, the proud General Valchester, was both grieved and disappointed that his handsome son, whom half the belles of Richmond were sighing for, had chosen to marry an obscure and simple little country girl.

His gentle mother, too, was distressed over it, but she had allowed her darling son to persuade her that his betrothed was the fairest and most lovable girl on earth, and she had come with Ronald to the wedding, determined, for the sake of her son, to make the most of her daughter-in-law.

She was staying with the Earles by express invitation and Violet was especially charming and affectionate to Ronald Valchester's mother—so much so, indeed, that stately old Mrs. Valchester unbent from her quiet dignity enough to say, frankly:

"It is a wonder to me, Miss Earle, that my Ronald could have strayed any further than Laurel Hill to make his choice. If Miss Meredith is any more charming and lovely than you she must be a wonderful girl."

A peculiar expression came over Violet's pale, fair face. She turned her head away and looked out of the window silently a moment, but when she looked back her face wore a careless smile.

"Many thanks for your compliment, Mrs. Valchester," she replied. "Lina is very pretty, I assure you. She has a gipsyish kind of beauty."

"Is she dark?" asked Mrs. Valchester, and Violet replied:

"She has a brown skin and dark eyes, and her hair is a kind of chestnut, but rather sunburned, I think. You see she is always out in the wind and sun."

"I am rather sorry she is a brunette," said Mrs. Valchester, looking at Violet's lily-white beauty. "I always admired blondes the most. But," hopefully, "my son tells me she is a beautiful singer."

"Yes, she has a good voice," admitted Violet. "It is loud and clear, yet almost totally uncultivated. She has had only a few months' tuition, you know. But, of course, after she—is—married, Mr. Valchester will secure a teacher for her in all those branches in which she is deficient."

"Of course," said Ronald Valchester's mother, but in her heart she winced at the idea of a daughter-in-law who would require teachers after she was married. What would her fashionable and exclusive set say to such a wife for her only son of whom she was so proud?

"Ronald told me that Miss Meredith is quite fresh from boarding-school," she said faintly, after a moment.

"Oh! yes, she had one year at Staunton," said Violet, carelessly, yet enjoying to the utmost the anxiety she had awakened in the mind of the proud old lady. "Of course you know, dear Mrs. Valchester, that one year would not be sufficient to give the polish requisite for such society as your son's wife will mingle in. You will have to give Lina the benefit of your own knowledge, of course. I am quite sure she will do her best to appear to an advantage. She has always made the very most of her few opportunities."

Violet talked so kindly and patronizingly that Mrs. Valchester did not suspect the hidden malice that lurked in her words, yet she began to feel vaguely uncomfortable. Her placid conviction that her gifted son could not have made a bad choice began to give place to anxiety.

"I am very anxious to see Miss Meredith," she said. "I wish I had felt well enough to drive over to Meredith farm with Ronald to-day. Tell me, Miss Earle, do you think my son has chosen a wife who is likely to do credit to his judgment?"

"I really should not like to express an opinion," replied the girl, with an appearance of the greatest frankness. "It is always very difficult to decide such a question. Lina Meredith is certainly unformed and a little rustic at present. But these are defects which time and the mingling in good society will certainly amend, you know."

"Do you believe that she is in love with my son?" asked the old lady, anxiously, and feeling to herself that a genuine affection felt for Ronald by the girl of his choice would condone a multitude of faults.

"I could not tell you," replied Violet. "I have never heard her express an opinion concerning him. Of course his wealth would be a great temptation to a girl in her position, but no one has a right to judge that she accepted him for that. It must be that she loved him, Mrs. Valchester. One reared so rudely and plainly as poor Lina has been, could not really form an idea of the great advantages wealth would bring her."

Every innocent seeming word had a barbed point for the heart of the proud mother. Violet talked to her some time about Jaquelina.

She appeared very frank and open, but she made Mrs. Valchester understand very plainly by skillful innuendoes that she was by no means on terms of intimate association with her son's betrothed, and that their acquaintance had simply consisted of a series of kindly, patronizing acts on her part.