"What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. As soon as she reached this spot, Wild sprang ashore, and was joined by several persons, —among whom was Quilt Arnold, leading a horse by the bridle,—he hastened down the stairs to meet him. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again.
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