The Unseen Bridegroom

"You wretch! Well?"

"Well, I went to see her occasionally afterward, but not often, for the strolling troupe were here, there, and everywhere--from pillar to post. But I never lost sight of her, and I saw her grow up a pretty, slender, bright-eyed lass, well dressed, well fed, and happy--perfectly happy in her wandering life. Her great-grandmother--old Peter Dane's wife--was a gypsy, Mr. Walraven, and I dare say the wild blood broke out. She liked the life, and became the star of the little band--the queen of the troupe. I kept her in view even when she crossed the Atlantic last year, and paid her a visit a week ago to-night."

"Humph!" was Carl Walraven's comment. "Well, Mistress Miriam, it might have been worse; no thanks to you, though. And now--what does she know of her own story?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

"Nothing, I tell you. Her name is Mary Dane, and she is seventeen years old on the twenty-fifth of November. Her father and