face the possibilities of it just yet. It required a little more courage
than he had been able to muster up to seek an audience with the
millionaire--beard the lion in his den, as it were--and dare propose
such a monstrously preposterous thing as the asking of his lovely,
dainty young daughter's hand in marriage. Lester was timid. He dreaded
beyond words the setting of the ball rolling which would tear his
beautiful love and himself asunder. Heaven help him, he was so
unutterably happy in the bewildering present.

His reverie was suddenly interrupted by seeing a little black figure
hurrying down the path. Another instant, and the little breathless
figure was clasped in his arms, close, close to his madly throbbing
heart.

"Oh, Faynie, my love, my darling, my precious, why did you brave the
fury of the tempest to keep the tryst to-night? I am here, but I did not
expect you, much as I love to see you. I was praying you would not
venture out. Oh, my precious, what is it?" he cried in alarm, as the
fitful light of the gas lamp that hung over the arched gate fell full
upon her. "Your sweet face is as white as marble, and your beautiful
golden hair is wet with drifted snow, as is your cloak."

To his intense amazement and distress, she burst into the wildest of
sobs and clung to him like a terrified child. All in vain he attempted
to soothe her and find out what it was all about.

The first thought that flashed through his mind was that their meetings
had been discovered, and that they meant to put him from Faynie, and he
strained her closer to his heart, crying out that whatever it was,
nothing save death should separate them.