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[By J. C. Eno s Patent.]
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THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA
THAT GIRL
FROM BOGOTA
A NOVEL
by
CLARICE IRENE CLINGHAN
author of
the town topics prize story, "six months in hades,' etc.
COPYRIGHT
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITED
Broadway, Ludgate Hill
Manchester and New York
1896.
[All Rights Reserved
LONDON AND COUNTY PRINTING WORKS, DRURY LANK, W.C.
CONTENTS.
Chapter I.—Demetrius Newcastle,
 II.—A Curious Young Woman from
South America, -
 III.—The Child of the Engineer,
 IV.—A Minister's Night in New
York, -
 V.—A Helping Hand, -
 VI.—"I Am a Robber!
VII.—The Pirate's Wife, -
 VIII.— She was Round and Yellow!
'' IX.— Somewhere to Hide the Girl!''
 X.—Mr. Hardinage Watches!
XI.—In the Tomb of the Buccaneer,
PAGE
5
19
30
46
67
85
101
hi
127
141
I51
contents.
TAGE
Chapter XII.— I Was Alone! ... 161
 XIII.—Up the Magdalena, - - -170
 XIV.—The Dutch Millionaire, - - 189
XV.—Mr. TenBrok's Bride Astonish-
es Him, - 206
i: XVI.— Fascinate Him! Fascinate
Him! - - - - 225
 XVII.—A Honeymoon Elopement, - 234
 XVIII.—The Romance at the Gov-
ernor's - - - - 247
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
CHAPTER I.
demetrius newcastle.
Probably few men in his own generation and profes-
sion had a fairer outlook than had Demetrius New-
castle at the age of twenty-nine. He had studied for
the ministry and recently taken holy orders; he was
now rector of St. John's parish, Cragskill on the Hud-
son, a town numbering not more than twenty-five thou-
sand souls; but with souls, as in everything else,
quality outweighs quantity, and the high moral and
social standing of his parishioners being taken into the
account, together with attendant rent-rolls and bank
accounts, St. John's was a rare opportunity for one
so young.
Demetrius came of a long line of clergymen; not of
dissenters, but robust Church of England divines who
hunted, drank good wine, and prepared next Sunday's
sermon in the cheerful fumes of long-stemmed pipes;
yet more than one of whom had offered up their bodies
to tortuous flames when must be for the price of aeon-
viction. Good men they were and true, and uncom-
monly fond of their profession, and Demetrius was no
exception to the rule except that he was, perhaps, a
trifle more austere. He had been a good, obedient
boy, faithful at his lessons, yet so dreamy as to be ap-
parently ambitionless. His parents had died when he
was very young, leaving him with a small inheritance,
6
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
barely enough to cover his education, to the care of
his uncle who was none other than the illustrious
Bishop Newcastle, well known not only for his eminent
piety, but as diplomat, man of affairs, and polished
gentleman, who even in his advanced old age was of
most commanding personality—remarkably thin and
tall, with a high arched nose, and that gentle suavity
that underlies a strong, unbending will.
The Bishop spent the last years of his life at his old
family mansion atCragskill; here, by aid of a tutor,
Demetrius was educated until ready for college, when,
he had been sent to Oxford, England.
The study where the young divine spent his hours of
labor was a large, low-ceilinged room, badly lighted
owing to the great trees that overhung its windows,
crowded with musty volumes teeming with the
contradictory thoughts of authors whose dead per-
sonalities seemed resuscitated in their books. With-
out being morbid, Demetrius's early life had been
dangerously secluded and introspective. Under the
constant supervision and guardianship of a strong and
influential nature like the Bishop's, the boy's disposi-
tion and inclinations had been molded instead of
being developed, so that up to the time he assumed
position of rector of St. John's, at his uncle's death,
his individuality had had little chance to assert itself.
Even when at college he had remained passive, tak-
ing cognizance of the pranks or more insidious in-
trigues of some of his companions with good-natured
indifference. Nothing appealed to him enough to
arouse enthusiasm. Only once had he been thoroughly
roused; it was the night before his ordination. Some-
thing within him battled as though against a gyve.
 Oh that I might live!  he had cried in desperation,
and walked the floor till daylight, struggling with some
mental foe hitherto unsuspected.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
7
But the mood had worn off, and he had forgotten it in
new friends, work, and occupation.
Demetrius had been accompanied to Oxford by a boy
cousin, who was about the same age as himself, and who
also, by a curious coincidence, bore the same name—
Demetrius Newcastle; for this was the name of the Bish-
op, and two of his nephews, proud of the relationship,
had bestowed that cognomen upon their eldest sons.
While these cousins were abroad, they became ac-
quainted with an English branch of their family of the
name of Bruce, the eldest daughter in which was a
remarkably handsome girl of the serious, religious
type. Both of the young men were interested in her
to such an extent that they each made her an offer of
marriage. She chose the prospective clergyman, though
she refused to marry him and accompany him to
America at that time, preferring to wait until he should
embrace his vocation and make a station for himself in
the world, when it was arranged that he should come
back to England for her. This young lady, wealthy,
handsome, accomplished, sweet in disposition, and
sound in religion, seemed the one of all women best
adapted to promote his happiness and work with him,
to the honor of the high office he had chosen.
And so it was that, up to the afternoon of a day late
in September in the year 1894, Demetrius Newcastle's
life was that of an exceptionally fortunate individual,
singularly favored in all his undertakings. The day
had been filled with the usual details of his calling,
none of which was noteworthy in itself, and Demetrius
was troubled by no prescience that three small hap-
penings of this day were to work tremendous revolu-
tions, not alone in his own life, but in the lives of all
with whom he was intimately connected. In this one
afternoon he simply acquired a friend, an enemy, and
a financial responsibility.
8
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
This one enemy which he made was the result of his
strong abhorrence of any kind of hypocrisy or double-
dealing. It was the only human weakness which he
found it utterly impossible to forgive or condone.
During his absence in England a family of the name
of Hardinage, with a couple of pretty daughters, came
to Cragskill and built a handsome residence. The
father and mother were somewhat vulgar and over-fed
in manner and appearance, but extremely wealthy, and
wished to give their daughters the benefit of a higher
class of society than they themselves had ever entered,
and to this end, perhaps, they sought the kindly offices
of the church.
It was well known that Mr. Hardinage had acquired
his money by very doubtful methods, though always
evading the clutches of the law. He seemed, in fact, to
be one of those keen, unscrupulous men who so readily
invent new crimes that it requires a new interpretation
of.the statutory laws to properly govern them. He
had now retired from business with a noble competency,
and while he expressed no regret for past transactions,
it was generally understood that he was willing to let
bygones be bygones. He united with the church, and
each Sunday morning sat, with his family, in a pew not
far removed from the altar, where his florid, self-satis-
fled face and bristling sandy hair often irritated the
rector into a state of mind not consistent with the
privileges of the hour. There was, in fact, from the
first a secret dislike of each man for the other. Mr.
Hardinage resented the rector's cold reserve, which
he called pride, and which, with the readiness of ego-
tism to be offended, he felt was aimed at him. He
believed, however, that Mr. Newcastle was the man of
all men for him to propitiate, and after some thought
resolved to do so, even at considerable cost.
Accordingly, on this September afternoon he called
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
9
at the rectory, and was shown into the old library
where Demetrius was preparing his sermon, sitting at
a table strewn with loose-leaved manuscripts. Clad in
a dressing-gown, with rumpled hair, and with the pre-
occupied air of the professional man, the young rector
thought Mr. Hardinage looked more approachable
than he had ever seen him—"more human he ex-
pressed it to himself. In appearance Demetrius was
tall, of thin, sinewy build, with thick, dark brown hair
showing a slight tendency to curl; very resolute nose
and mouth, and a forehead evincing strong ideality.
In conversation he often expressed thought by his eyes,
which were a fine dark bluish-gray and very change-
ful; and when in the society of congenial friends was
fond of long restful silences. He welcomed his visitor
with politeness, but with the cold expression in his eyes
that Hardinage knew and writhed under. However,
after some preliminary conversation on local matters,
he drew out his pocket-book and took therefrom a check
representing a considerable sum, laying it on the
rector's table.
"Ah, what's this? asked Mr. Newcastle, taking
up the bit of paper and looking at it.
"A little gift I have the honor to present the church
through you, said Mr. Hardinage blandly.
Mr. Newcastle looked at the figures on the check with
such absence of enthusiasm that the donor felt a new
sense of injury and aggravation. Demetrius's face wore
a serious look and he was some time silent, for he was
wondering whether he had the right to express himself
as he really felt on this occasion. Perhaps a feeling
of personal dislike might have urged him on, unknown
to himself; or it might have been that fine, strong
sense of justice which is often the heritage of such a
temperament as his. At all events he put down the
IO THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
paper, saying decidedly: "The church cannot accept
this, Mr. Hardinage, through me.
"Not accept it? "gasped Hardinage in surprise.
"Why not ?
 ' It is not lawful to put it in the treasury, because
it is the price of blood.' 
Mr. Hardinage flushed and an angry light came into
his greenish eyes. "You mean my money isn't good
enough for you? he demanded. "Then why did
you receive me into your church ? 
Mr. Newcastle had risen and was walking up and
down the room. Mr. Hardinage had also come to his
feet, and the two men finally faced each other, one
angry and on the defensive, the other quiet but slightly
agitated.
"You see, it's like this, said Demetrius. "The
human soul is a live, growing thing; always in the pro-
cess of throwing off past conditions, remodeling itself,
and, after a. time, whatever is foreign to its best self
sloughs off. So we enter the world; so we enter the
church. But money is a fixed commodity, represent-
ing the motives and methods, the justice or injustice,
the nobility or the infamy, of him who acquires it. In
the truest sense when it comes simply as a gift, espe-
cially to the church, the society assumes the responsi-
bility of the donor. Without wishing to be unduly
critical or harsh, yet believe me, Mr. Hardinage, no
church is so great and strong nor yet so holy that it
can burden itself with money representing the wrongs
of women and children, or the unjust acquisition of
the hard-earned savings of patient lifetimes.
Mr. Newcastle spoke in a low tone, indeed, only
just audible, but thrilled and shaken with intensity of
feeling. For an instant his hearer, though he did not
entirely follow him, was slightly awed. He was not a
vicious man at heart, but simply covetous, greedy, and
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
II
selfishly unmindful of the rights of others at any length
that would not recoil upon himself in points of civil
law. Probably if he could have had all the world
afforded on just and moral grounds, he would have
preferred it as being easiest and best. But hard and
unfeeling as he was, the rector's words probed deep to
some tender spot of conscience left unmarred since
childhood, and burned and rankled there. One of the
principal points of his theology had always been that a
generous expenditure of a part of his wealth would
serve to purify the rest; now this prop was taken from
him, making him weak and hateful in his own eyes and
the eyes of the world. A rush of passionate feeling
surged over him, flushing his face a dull, brick-red,
choking his ever-ready speech, and suffusing his eyes
with a hot, smarting moisture. He could not speak as
he would, but an oath came to his lips, and snatching
the check from the table he crushed it in his hand and
flung it in the flame that flickered gently in the fireplace.
"You have chosen to insult me, sir, he exclaimed,
with working face, "but don't think I am fooled by
this pretense of virtue, this pious impertinence. You're
the aristocratic head of an aristocratic church, a ring
of high-toned families, whose purpose is to keep what
they call other classes from meeting them on equal
terms. You pride yourself on your family; but if there's
any truth in hearsay, you are descended from a pirate
that ought to have swung from the yard-arm, and whose
money, if he had any, was no better than mine. You
have refused my gift; very well, it is your privilege.
But I hope to God I shall find the good day when you
shall be humiliated before the world, as you have tried
to humiliate me.
Without another word he strode from the room, and
Mr. Newcastle heard the outer door shut hard.
Demetrius stood motionless for a moment after his
12
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
visitor had gone, looking thoughtful and perplexed.
He knew he had made a life-long enemy, one who to
his dying moment would never forget or forgive, and
who would cling to a supposed insuit as a nobler mind
would hold to a beloved memory; but he did not re-
gret the course he had taken, though he felt a slight
pity for the man who had taken it so thoroughly for
granted that social recognition in this world and sal-
vation in the next could be purchased for a few badly
earned dollars.
The allusion to his pirate ancestor, however, caused
him to laugh outright when it recurred to him. He
knew there was considerable truth in the innuendo, just
how much it was impossible to tell, since the objection-
able relative was enveloped in a haze of mystery and
tradition. This much was known: that he had figured
as privateer during the war of the Revolution, in com-
mand of an English ship (all the family being devout
Tories), though it was whispered that no matter what
manner of craft he met on the high seas, nor what flag
waved from it, he was an enemy. He had spent the last
few months of his life at Cragskill with his daughter, De-
metrius's great-grandmother, in the same house the
latter now inhabited. This much Demetrius knew, and
also that the tomb containing his remains had never been
opened since his body had been placed there, owing to a
feeling then current that he was not entitled to interment
in consecrated ground, owing to his open defiance of
religion. This vault, which was built in a side-hill,
was situated in an old cemetery, long since abandoned,
the few bones it contained removed, and which now
consisted of a few brown headstones with obliterated
names, scattered in a desolate field, dotted with pines
and willows.
This place had been a favorite haunt of Demetrius's
when he had been an abstracted, studious boy, wander-
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA*.
13
ing over the fields and woods with a book instead of a
gun; and when life at the rectory grew too hum-drum
to be bearable, he would saunter about the old vault
with its grim iron door, and picture to himself an an-
cestor of a very different type from his good uncle, for
he would hardly have been a natural, healthy boy had
he not regarded with greater admiration his bucca-
neer ancestor with all his hazardous exploits on the
sea, than the honored and well-beloved Bishop. In-
deed, it had been an early ambition of his to be a
pirate instead of a clergyman, though he had never
mentioned it to any of his relatives.
Now the whole subject, long forgotten, was brought
back to his memory by Hardinage's sneering remark,
and he smiled at the recollection of his youthful
dreams and follies as he went to his room to attire
himself for a meeting in the vestry of the church,
which appointment was almost due. He was, in fact,
a little late in meeting it, and found the four gentle-
men that formed the Committee on Finance, already
awaiting him. Hardinage was one of the four, a sin-
ister expression in his small eyes, which were slightly
bloodshot. A table bearing sundry plans and archi-
tectural drawings stood in the center of the room over
which the gentlemen were bending in consultation.
"Mr. Newcastle resembles the Bishop, don't you
think so ? asked Mr. Townsend. a benign, white-
haired old gentleman, glancing through the window at
Demetrius as he came rapidly up the walk. They had
all known Demetrius as a youth, but he had been ab-
sent several years, and it had been scarce, a month
since he had returned to assume the charge of St.
John's parish.
"He's like him in appearance, but more severe,
said Colonel Oppendike, walking toward the window.
 Oh, he hasn't the mellowing effect of age, re-
14
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
turned Mr. Townsend. "I think he's going to be
extremely popular. For the last two Sundays our con-
gregation has been enormous, and I confess I have
never listened to a more eloquent speaker or one more
favorable in address.
 Yes, people will ride for miles and miles to hear a
ranting actor ! 
The three other gentlemen turned simultaneously to
the speaker, astonishment depicted on their faces. It
was Hardinage who had spoken, and his hearers, look-
ing at him, were startled to observe in his face, not
merely sneering criticism, but an expression of malig-
nant, deep-rooted hate.
"Sir, of whom are you speaking? cried Colonel
Oppendike.
But before the conversation could proceed farther the
object of their remarks entered the room, and greeting
his four parishioners, they soon were seated about the
table, explaining to the rector the object of the meet-
ing-
A wealthy lady of the community had died some half
a dozen years before, leaving the sum of fifteen one-
thousand-dollar U. S. bonds for the church, and, being
of a narrow, somewhat suspicious disposition, had in-
sisted upon putting the money under the personal
supervision of the Bishop, so arranging it in her will.
But the church, being out of debt and wealthy, had
never used the legacy. The will had provided that, in
case of the Bishop's death, the money should be held
in trust for the church by the rector of St. John's
immediately succeeding him; all of which was unknown
to Demetrius, for the Bishop had not written him of the
circumstance.
Shortly before Demetrius's advent among them, a
vote had been taken, which, subject to the rector's
consent, would devote the money to the building of a
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
*5
memorial chapel to the Bishop, which should adjoin
the church, and offer enlarged facilities for its work.
"What think you, Mr. Newcastle? asked Colonel
Oppendike; "could we put the money to better use?
 I think not; we need the chapel badly, replied
Demetrius.  In what way is this sum invested?
 In government bonds. When you next go to town,
if you'll kindly convert them into cash, we'll commence
the work at once. What do you think of these designs?
Pray select one to your taste.
The four gentlemen here put their heads together,
and in the course of an hour had decided on a plan that
met the wishes of all. Then, having a parish call to
make, Demetrius excused himself, the others following
at leisure.
 You noticed that remark of Hardinage's about the
rector?  asked Colonel Oppendike, as he walked down
the street with his neighbor Townsend.
"I did. But his looks were worse than his words.
I wonder what can be the reason of such intense dislike
to a man who is almost a stranger!
"I don't know. Hardinage is a dangerous man,
and I wouldn't like him for an enemy ; he'd be sly and
under-handed. But what can he do in this instance ?
A man like Mr. Newcastle is invulnerable.
Meanwhile Demetrius made his call, and returned to
the rectory, which was constructed like a sum in long
division, there being a wing on either side, while the
house proper was long, having been added to by many
generations to suit themselves, without regard to ar-
chitecture. An elderly widow, his aunt, occupied a part
of the house, as she had done for many years, acting as
hostess until her place should be assumed by a younger,
fairer lady who would be no other than Demetrius's
bride.
When the rector entered he found tea already await-
i6
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
ing him. The dining-room, a big room furnished in
oak, with uneven floor and bulging ceiling, was lit
with hanging-lamps and warmed with a light wood fire
which snapped and crackled back of the antique brass
andirons, sending out balsamic odors. His aunt, a
short, thin old lady with uneven shoulders, keen blue
eyes, and two small white curls on either temple, sat
down and began to pour the tea.
"I hoped you would not go out this afternoon,
she said, "as I heard you were likely to have an im-
portant call.
"Whom ? 
"Mr. Hardinage.
 Is he important ? 
 Don't misconstrue my words, dear, said Mrs. Har-
per, a little pettishly.  I said an important call, not
a call from an important person.
"Very true, said Demetrius, smiling at her play of
words. "But how did you know he was coming? I
begin to think I am the victim of a plot.
"Oh, all the town knows what the Hardinages
know. It's a wonder to me that they can disseminate
so much information when they go out so little. You
know they are never invited anywhere. I was at Mrs.
Silverton's yesterday, and do you know that good soul
had sent Mrs. Hardinage and her two daughters "at-
home  cards out of sheer pity. They belong to our
church, you see, and it seems a shame to wholly ignore
them. So they were all there in costumes that would
have been the correct thing for presentation at a Rus-
sian court—yes, I do assure you ! 
"The young ladies are not bad looking; are they
intelligent ? 
"In a way, yes, but so provincial. They ask if
you've ever read David Copperfield! 
 No!  cried Demetrius, laughing heartily.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
17
"Yes, they do. The mother is an ambitious but
rather amiable person who wants to get herself liked.
She's embroidering a beautiful altar-cloth, my dear, so
sweet—cadet-blue angels with red hair, which contrasts
so prettily with their gowns and wings! She was de-
lighted to see me, and told me her husband was to call
at the rectory to-day and leave a check for five thou-
sand dollars with you for the church.
 How unutterably vulgar for her to tell you of it! 
"True, my dear, but what would you have? In
these unfortunate days money is more scarce than
culture, and I declare sometimes when I am working
among my poor I feel as if I would give all my ances-
tors and social advantages to be as vulgarly rich as the
Hardinages are. But did he really leave the check ?
I've planned a thousand ways to spend it in the parish.
Demetrius briefly and somewhat reluctantly related
the history of Mr. Hardinage's call, his aunt listening
with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.  Didn't accept
it ? she screamed, as if unable to credit her senses.
"Really, this is extraordinary. Who ever heard of
such a thing as not accepting money for a church  ?
 But if the money is not clean ? 
 Money is money, asserted the old lady, snappishly
and logically.  What difference does it make where
it comes from "or whom it comes from or what its his-
tory is, so long as one does good with it ? 
"But our church is not poor; I, myself, hold gov
ernment bonds in trust for it to the amount of fifteen
thousand dollars.
"But that will be used to build a chapel; and then
there are the poor.
"I sometimes wonder what the church would do
without the poor, said the rector musingly. '' They're
so convenient, when one wants to do penance.
"You are too austere; it grows on you every day,
l8 THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
said his aunt, pouring her nephew another cup of tea,
for if Demetrius was intemperate in any direction he
was in regard to this beverage, when well brewed.
 You ought to marry soon.
 Is marriage a panacea for all ills ? 
 Marriage is reconstructive. When it's happy it is
softening and refining; when it's unhappy it,makes one
forget one's other troubles. I hope Miss Bruce will
soon marry you out of hand.
"Heaven speed the day! laughed Demetrius,
finishing his tea; and as his aunt was in a bad humor
over his declination of the money, he escaped to his
study and again began work upon his sermon.
Absorbed in this, he hardly noted the knock on the
door which came soon after, and with a half-audible
"Come in continued his rapid writing.
The little maid-servant opened the door wide, ush-
ered in a woman, and then withdrew. Looking up,
Mr. Newcastle saw, by the light of his study-lamp, a
personage so extraordinary that for an instant he fan-
cied he must be the victim of an optical delusion.
A very tall woman, apparently of magnificent pro-
portions, stood before him, wrapped in a long cloak
or mantle of dark blue, having a deep, soft nap, a cor-
ner of it being drawn over her head with an effect not
inartistic; her feet were shod with moccasins of un-
tanned hide, neatly laced with thongs of similar ma-
terial. She stood with head erect, motionless, and
dignified, in an attitude of reposeful waiting, and this
pose, together with the rector's own surprise, gave
opportunity for a quick, sweeping study of this woman's
strange personality.
There are faces so strong that all question of mere
beauty is at once eliminated from the mind of the
spectator, just as when a stupendous mountain-range
bursts upon the view, one does not exclaim that it is
that girl from bogota.
19
either pretty or ugly, but only has a sense that it is
awful and tremendous. Such was the type of woman
that now stepped before Demetrius.
With the nice appreciation some men have of de-
tails, Demetrius had a penchatit for noticing harmonious
effects of costume, the blending and contrast of favor-
able colors; but the personality of this woman was so
distinct, so individual, that it was not in the least de-
pendent upon accessories or surroundings. In real
life, as in art, most people are affected by a favorable
background. But this creature was such a stern,
rugged, forceful part of nature that she no more needed
accessories than a cyclone or a great conflagration.
Demetrius knew at a glance that such a nature was not,
nor could be, the product of the world he knew; it
was the outcome of many generations of mighty social
and political upheavals, suffering, and heroism under
awful conditions, gradually concentrating the simpler,
weaker sentiments of life into three or four powerful,
overruling emotions—love, hatred, gratitude, revenge!
And the woman was queenly. Her head showed
under its quaint covering a profusion of soft, straight
black hair; her skin was brown but clear, her high
nose drooping slightly over a full, sensual mouth, giv-
ing her face a slight expression of malignity,which was
contradicted by her large, melancholy eyes.
"You wish to see me, Madame ? asked Demetrius
coming forward.
"Yes, padre, replied the woman, "I wish to see
you. I have something to say to you.
CHAPTER II.
a curious young woman from south america.
"Sit down, said the rector, indicating an arm-
chair, which he moved a little nearer to the fire, for the
20
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
night was chilly. "You are a stranger in this com-
munity, are you not ? 
The woman sank down in the proffered chair,
stretched her moccasined feet toward the blaze, and re-
plied in her soft deliberate voice, in very good English:
"Yes, padre, we are only here since Saturday. We
came at the edge of night.
 You are not alone, then ? 
"No, my young lady is with me, my charge, an
Americano. We came from Boston, where the
senorita studied music and many fine accomplish-
ments.
"You are Spanish-American, are you not? 
"No, I am a Yquichano, of the Yncas, replied
the woman, with dignity. "Iam the Senora Asunta
Ysquibel.
"Ah! You are from Peru?
 That was my birthplace. But the Yncas no longer
have a country or a home. But I would not speak of
myself. It is of the young lady in my charge that 1
would make prayer to you—Senorita Virginia Lamar.
Mr. Newcastle caught up the poker and stirred the
fire with a grave expression; he feared an unpleasant
revelation. "Tell your story, he said curtly.
"Padre, the story is simple—it can be told in few
words. Six months ago I came to the States to ac-
company the young lady, whose father and mother are
stationed at Bogota, frequently making long journeys
into the mountains. Always we had traveled with
them, but the senorita grew up too beautiful—
always there were flatteries, and boxes of bon-bons
sent, and the mandolin and love-song under the win-
dow whenever there was moon enough to display the
lover. There is a saying among my people: ' To
flatter youth and blame old age is poison to the
bones.' 
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
21
 So the young lady was sent to school to avoid too
many lovers, summed up the rector.
"She was. The lovers we escaped, but God sent a
plague into the school more dire nor yet so pleasing.
So having avoided the lovers by one move, we had to
make another to escape the plague which they call
scarlet fever. All pupils not attacked within so
many days were sent home quickly, my young lady
of the lucky number. We could not go to Bogota,
for we had little money. So we went to New
York as guests of Madame Maxwell, aunt to Miss
Lamar. We found the house closed tight from attic to
basement and the great front door secured with painted
boards. We knew she had a residence in this place, so
hither we proceeded, only to meet the same reception,
and I was compelled to gain admittance through a
second-story window, opening on a balcony, and, as the
Madonna kindly willed it, overhung by a white-birch.
 So you and your charge are alone there, in the
house?
"Alone in the house, yes, though there is an un-
hanged villain at the stables who says he is the coach-
man. This man was away—drunk in the village most
probably—when we took possession. He has now
returned and curses us as impostors and would
dispossess us. Him I have been able to intimidate.
He fears me, but I think he means to appeal to the
alcalde to drive us out. To you I have come in my
trouble.
 I see! ' Demetrius said.  The young lady must
be placed under the protection of some family here
until you can communicate with her parents.
"But that takes time.
"A day or two, perhaps.
"Yes, said Senora Ysquibel, "and meanwhile 
 Yes, what ? You are afraid to stay ? 
22
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"Oh, no; we're not afraid. The trouble is, the
little one 
"Speak out, cried Demetrius, with a touch of ap-
prehension.
 She is starving, answered the woman, and then
drew her mantle about her and sat immovable, her eyes
fixed on a tongue of flame that licked the chimney.
 Dear heaven!  exclaimed the rector.  Starving,
you say ? There's no food in the house—you have no
money ?
 Not so much as a lucky-penny to give us expecta-
tion.
"Why, how is this ?
 Padre, I will tell you: Virginia had only a bit of her
last month's allowance left, just enough to bring us to
this place. Here we looked to find her friends.
Where are they, can you tell me ?
 The Maxwells sailed for Europe the last of June,
I have been informed, and it is not at all certain when
they will return. You came here Saturday night, you
say ? And now it's Monday. Why did you not come
before ? You've been without food all this time ? 
"Not altogether. There was fruit in the orchards.
We are strangers to every one in the town, and Miss
Lamar is proud; we know not whom to turn to. But
to-night when she fell asleep at night-fall I saw how
drawn and white her face was and stole away unbe-
knownst to her, and inquired for the padre of the
church; they sent me here to you.
"No food since Saturday! reiterated Demetrius,
his mind dwelling on the main issue of the case.
"Here, take this, forcing a bill into her hand, "get
food and things you need for comfort. But stay!
glancing at the time, "it is too late, the shops are
closed. I'll order a few provisions put up for you at
once.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
2 3
He left the room and returned soon after with a cov-
ered basket, his hat in hand.  I'll walk down with
you, he said; "the house is far removed from neigh-
bors and rather lonely; I'll see that all is safe before I
sleep.
Senora Ysquibel making no objection to this
proposition, they set out for the Maxwell residence,
which was a little over half a mile away, a hand-
some house of the Queen Anne type, set considerably
back from the street, from which it was partially
screened by the rows of poplars that lined its drive-
way. There was not a ray of light visible, every
shutter was closed, every curtain drawn close; and as
their footsteps echoed along the silent veranda the
whole story of the Indian woman seemed absurd and
improbable, her soft, cat-like step and inscrutable
face seeming to confirm the momentary supposition
that came to Mr. Newcastle that he was the victim of
some plot or machination. But she had already
inserted a key in the lock of the door, and, opening it,
entered, Demetrius following her, the door closing
immediately behind them with a sharp click, leaving
them in utter darkness, utter silence. The rector felt
his nerves thrill, not with fear, but with mingled curi-
osity and suspense. As he put out his hands to
grope his way forward he felt his wrist clasped by a
strong, firm hand, while the woman whispered, as if
afraid to break the stillness of the place: "This way,
padre, I will guide you.
Groping along slowly in the darkness, Demetrius
and his companion encountered the stairway, which
they ascended, then traversed a corridor toward a nar-
row ribbon of light outlining a door leading to a room
in the rear of the house. This door Asunta opened
softly, and putting her fingers on her lips, beckoned
him to enter. "She sleeps, she whispered softly.
24
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
Coming in out of the darkness, the rector's eyes
were blurred for a moment, for the apartment was
brilliantly alight by means of a chandelier and also a
standing-lamp, draped in crimson, throwing a warm
glow over the pretty scene—for it -was pretty, even
enchanting. On a dark green couch piled with cush-
ions, brought up near the fire, lay a young girl, fast
asleep. Her face, full of piquant interest even in
slumber, was a perfect oval, the skin a clear olive,
the black lashes, long and curling, lying athwart her
cheeks repeating themselves in shadows; the sweet, win-
ning mouth, touched with the suspicion of a smile; over
all that noble serenity with which sleep, like its twin-
brother death, often inspires the human countenance.
The girl was attired in a curious gown of pale amber,
of soft but heavy silk, revealing the youthful outlines of
her figure, which was tall, and though slender exquisite-
ly proportioned; a pair of pale yellow slippers topped
with big bows adorned two extremely pretty feet that
peeped from the soft, billowy folds of her dress ; her
white, beautifully molded arms, from which a deep
cascade of lace fell back, leaving them bare to the elbow,
were thrown above her head.
To Demetrius, who had expected to find a crude,
half-starved, terrified schoolgirl, the picture of this
beauty sleeping reposefully in a gown that would have
done credit to a court ball was astonishing and confusing.
He stood dumb and motionless, all his senses seeming
to concentrate themselves in his eyes.
 Come, whispered Asunta, putting a hand on his
arm to rouse him. He followed reluctantly—and not
without a backward glance—into the next apartment,
which was a library, the walls being lined with book-
cases. "Wait here, continued the Ynca, "until I
awaken Miss Virginia and give her a sandwich. She's
so cross—the little one—when she's hungry! 
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
25
With that she withdrew and closed the door behind
her, leaving Demetrius to amuse himself with a book
or magazine, which he tried to do, but despite himself
he could not forbear listening to the voices on the
other side of the door, one of which was clear, sweet,
and imperious, having that vibrant quality so pleasing
to the ear.
Then the odor of brewing tea pervaded the room,
after which the voices were more intermittent and
interspersed with ripples of laughter, by which he sur-
mised that the cross ''little one had been refreshed
with food.
He was walking up and down the room when the
door suddenly opened wide, and the beauty in the yel-
low gown stood framed in the doorway, her face full
of half-repressed mischief, one hand catching at her
train, to which she was evidently unaccustomed.
 I am told Mr. Newcastle is waiting, said the girl,
inclining in a low obeisance. "Pray will you not
come and join us in our banquet ? 
"I beg you excuse me from refreshment, replied
Demetrius, trying to fall into the spirit of the comedy;
 I have made a vow to fast from sundown until
to-morrow morning.
"Rash and unfortunate vow, exclaimed Virginia.
 Our board is groaning with delicacies, and we crave
your presence; besides I have made a vow never to
partake of unblessed food ! At least, she added, with
a little change of intonation, "a cup of tea?
Thus adjured, Demetrius followed her into the next
room, which afforded another surprise. A small table
was spread with snowy linen, and adorned with vines
blushing scarlet. On it were the dainty sandwiches and
guava jelly he had brought, besides fruit and tea in
transparent, eggshell cups.
Demetrius took seat at the table opposite Miss
2 6
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
Lamar, and between them sat Madame Asunta, who, it
was evident from her manner and conversation, had
had no mean privileges of birth and education, and
was looked upon by her charge as a friend, and not a
menial. Both women were a mystery to the rector,
who in all his conventional life had never met their
duplicates, and who began to regard the whole affair in
the light of an adventure, concerning the cause and
outcome of which it were impossible to prognosticate.
His face was grave, as usual, but catching the mysti-
fied speculation in his eyes, his radiant opposite was
convulsed with amusement and a spirit of reckless
daring, which, though partly repressed, stimulated her
like wine.
 Never have I tasted such sandwiches, such guava
jelly, such delicious tea! she cried.  Pardon me
for extolling the cuisine of my own table; but were
you once to test its excellence, you would know I have
great excuse, she added to Demetrius. "But per-
haps you would prefer a ragout, or a partridge, nicely
broiled, or a bit of salad. Pray order what you wish;
no guest of ours shall say we were stinted in our hos-
pitality.
"You forget my vow of abstinence, murmured the
rector. "Besides, I must confess such a prodigal dis-
play of dainties somewhat benumbs my appetite,
accustomed as I am to plain fare and surroundings.
His eyes rested on her magnificent costume with a
sort of questioning seriousness.
She looked across the table at him, her big brown
eyes as solemn as his own. "Don't be astonished at
anything you may see or hear this night, she said,
with warning finger.  I held an incantation over the
tea and have bewitched it.
 I believe you have! exclaimed Demetrius; for he
himself felt a strange sense of exhilaration, as though
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
27
he had entered some new world, in which all the old
cares, ambitions, and anxieties had slipped from him
as by magic. "Will your spell continue forever, er
only for this evening ?
 It will last as long as you are pleased to have it,
answered Virginia.  He who tires of the ambrosia of
the gods shall henceforth dine with mortals, on ordi-
nary porridge.
 Does the padre object to smoking? This from
Asunta.
Demetrius replied in the negative, his well-controlled
face showing no sign of surprise, though his amaze-
ment grew within. "What next? he thought, as he
watched the Ynca princess put some tobacco into a
long reed pipe and light it with indolent satisfaction.
As she watched the blue rings of smoke widen out
and drift toward the chimney she observed to Vir-
ginia, with a movement of her pipe toward a harp
which stood between the windows: "There is a saying
among my people: 'After the banquet, the song!'
Senorita Lamar glanced at the rector with challeng-
ing eyes. Murmuring assent to Asunta's hint, the
girl swept her long train across the floor, and, sinking
down on a low seat beside the instrument, began a
wild boating-song:
 My boat hath slipped its moorings;
Away with sail and oar.
With wind and tide I'll gladly glide
Unto an unknown shore.
 My barque hath slipped its moorings,
My anchor holds no more!
The refrain was repeated in a rhythmic chant, weird
and barbaric in its effect:
My boat hath slipped its moorings,
My anchor holds no more!
Finishing the song, the girl sat silent for a little,
28
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
her hands clasped in her lap, her face dreamy; then,
turning to Asunta, said: "There is a saying among
your people, 'After the song, the story-teller.' 
"Some other time, my heart. The hour is late, and
we are detaining the good padre.
This speech woke the rector from a spell. lie
glanced at his watch and came to his feet. "What can
I do for you ?  he asked.  Speak freely—command
me.
So far as the latter clause of his invitation was con-
cerned, Senora Ysquibel looked fully equal to it.
She sat motionless, balancing the reed pipe between
her fore and second fingers, her whole attitude express-
ing something hard to describe, but which might be
interpreted as power in repose.
"In eight days, she answered,  our remittances
will come from Bogota, and will be forwarded from the
seminary to us. Until then your generosity, padre,
will provide for us. Now there only remains the
coachman. Him, if you will, you may propitiate. As
for myself, he annoys me so excessively that I fear at
times I may do him an injury. Speak you to him.
"I will do so at once. But are you not afraid to
stay here ? he asked, turning involuntarily to Virginia,
for it seemed absurd to put such a question to the
Ynca.
"Afraid ? No, not with my Asunta. She's the
bravest person I know of, and she'd die for me.
Wouldn't you, Asunta ? 
 I would do more than that: I would live for you,
responded the senora in her slow, soft voice.
 You are right; it sometimes requires more courage
to live than to die, murmured the rector musingly.
"Even cowards have been known to rashly throw away
their lives in moments of excitement and despair; poets
and historians in all ages have sounded the praises of
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
29
those who dared to die; but what bard shall be the first
to immortalize those who, after all the sweetness has
gone out of life, leaving it barren, who say in the morn-
ing, 4 Would God it were evening!' and in the evening,
'Would God it were morning! ' yet have the heroism
to go on counting the slow days and years! 
Asunta looked fixedly at him, the whole woman
changing, her face becoming grand, illuminated, inde-
scribable, a soft mist of tears softening the wonderful
eyes. For Demetrius, by that little touch of sympa-
thetic understanding, had unconsciously knocked at the
closed gates of this woman's soul, and they, swinging
open at the magic touch, revealed for one instant a
glimpse of the passions and possibilities within.
"What a fascinating study she would make to a
student of human nature, he thought; then, hearing
the swish-swish of silks, he turned to watch the young
lady from South America, who had left her divan and
was approaching, a most exquisite picture in her fine
court gown.
"We can be so comfortable here, Mr. Newcastle,
and so happy, it would be a pity for us to go anywhere
else, she said pleadingly. "If we go elsewhere we
shall have to do as other people say, and I had enough
of that at school. Beside, while I'm here I can have a
new gown every afternoon and evening. Do you like
this one?  And she whisked around taking two or
three cachucha steps in order to display its fascinations
from all sides. "Well, it's nothing, nothing to what I
shall wear to-morrow and day after! You see, she
explained, seeing the rector's serious eyes grow large
with astonishment,  we have found a big chest full of
my A-unt Mina's handsomest gowns carefully folded
away, and there are enough to last me a long time.
She didn't care to take them to Europe with her, it
seems, but they are just the things to wear at home.
30 that girl from bogota.
 But will your aunt like to have you wear her
gowns? asked Demetrius, in surprise.
 Haven't the least idea, responded Virginia, cheer-
fully. ''' My boat hath slipped its moorings,'  she began
to chant, half under her breath, taking steps to accom-
pany the rhythmic measure, which was interrupted by
Asunta, who put a stern hand on her arm.
"The padre is going, said the Ynca. "Wish him
good-night, and help me thank him for his great kind-
ness.
Virginia returned and put out her hand, and stunned
the rector, for she whispered archly, "I thank you for
the banquet, my—my guardian! Her eyes were full
of mischief, but they grew shy as she raised them to
his and murmured, "and for coming!
Five minutes later Mrs. Maxwell's coachman was sur-
prised at being roused from his slumbers by a violent
knocking on the stable door, and even more astonished
as he put his head out of an upper window, at certain
rules in regard to the ladies who had taken possession
of his mistress's house, laid down to him by a gentleman
he recognized under the gleam of his hastily lighted
lamp as the Rector of St. John's.
 That big woman is a savage, Mr. Newcastle, he
said, deprecatingly, in self-defense. "How should I
know she belonged to the family? She's a regular
devil, and I'm blessed if I wasn't afraid of her.
"But the young lady is my—my ward !  answered
the rector, sternly, and left the man astonished.
CHAPTER III.
the child OF the engineer.
The incumbent of St. John's was in a quandary. He
felt suddenly responsible for and guardian of a pretty
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
31
schoolgirl who was an utter stranger to him, and he
was somewhat puzzled to know how to proceed. De-
spite the girl's protestations that she preferred to re-
main where she was and wear her aunt's pretty gowns,
he thought that she and her Indian companion should
be placed in the care of some family until her parents
could be heard from, especially as the Maxwell resi-
dence was far removed from neighbors and somewhat
lonely in its situation.
In this dilemma he appealed to his aunt at the
breakfast-table next morning. The old lady listened
keenly to his story, then remarked:
"Ah, yes; I knew the girl's mother years ago, before
she was married, a simple, pretty little thing, appar-
ently without ambition or ability. She married very
young and made a great mistake.
"What do you mean by ' a mistake?' 
"I mean John Lamar—now called by those semi-
savages in South America Don Juan Lamar.
"What was wrong with him? 
"My dear, nothing was right with him; a loud,
coarse, vulgar fellow, without the first intuitions of a
gentleman, madly ambitious after money—a mere ad-
venturer. He went to South America, taking his wife
with him, and has been there ever since except when
he makes trips to the United States to get capital to
further his schemes, which, by the way, never come to
anything.
 What are his schemes? 
"Oh, anything and everything—railroads, mines,
colonies. He's always just on the brink of a tremen-
dous success that will make him a king of finance;
quite a Colonel Sellers kind of man. And I must say
his enthusiasm is infectious. He can influence people
to invest money whom he has already swindled a dozen
times. Oh, a most doubtful man, extremely doubtful,
32
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
believe me! But tell me of his daughter; what is sh&
like? 
 As for flesh and blood, she is the most absolutely
perfect human being I ever saw. In regard to charac-
ter, she is yet so young it would be unfair to judge
her; but I fancy she's vain and somewhat frivolous.
"That goes without saying: blood will tell. Her
father, though, is immensely proud of her. Five years
ago, when he was last in Cragskill, I chanced to see
him and asked after his family, mentioning his daugh-
ter. 'Yes, fine girl, fine girl! I wish I had a dozen
more just like her,' he cried out in his horribly impet-
uous manner, bringing his hand down on a little table
holding some tea things, so that my heart came into
my throat as my best blue china danced and rattled.
A most uncomfortable person, my dear ! 
 How is Miss Lamar related to the Maxwells ? 
"On her mother's side. Mr. Maxwell is Mrs.
Lamar's great-uncle. The Maxwells are not par-
ticularly proud of the relationship; they think their
great-niece made a misalliance.
"Well, pray advise me, implored Demetrius.
 What am I to do with the young lady ? I have been
appealed to as the rector of this parish to look after
her interests. Will you call and see her ? 
"As soon as ever I can, but don't depend on me.
Between my household duties, the guilds, and my
poor families I'm looking after, I have little time to
devote to harum-scarum schoolgirls. Suppose you
call on the Burroughs and see if they won't receive
her as their guest until her parents can be heard from,
or some other provision made ? The Burroughs are
related to the Maxwells, so it would be quite a family
affair, you know.
Thus advised, Mr. Newcastle bent his steps to the
residence of Professor Burroughs, and was so fortunate
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
33
as to find the old gentleman in his study reading proof
of his forthcoming book, a textbook on botany.
The professor was a tall, thin, intellectual man,
who late in life had married a handsome but illiterate
woman, finding out too late that a mutual admiration
for her pretty face was all they had in common.
Mrs. Burroughs was now a fine florid woman, ap-
proaching middle life, extremely fond of society and
amusement, and a great stickler for form and conven-
tion, owing to her having spent several years immedi-
ately after her marriage studying books of etiquette.
She was very proud of her husband, yet with strange
inconsistency had sought strenuously all her married
life to win him from his scientific studies.
Professor Burroughs advanced to meet his guest,
whom he had known in his boyhood, with a delighted
smile. "Why, Demetrius, this is a great pleasure, I
assure you. I have been wishing to see you all the
morning. There are two or three passages in my new
book, about to go to press, that I'm somewhat doubt-
ful about—as to phraseology, you know. Now if you'd
kindly glance at these paragraphs marked in blue 
Demetrius carefully read and re-read the paragraphs
given him, after which he entered into a discussion
with the author as to the pros and cons of the subject
that was harrowing his mind. This settled, the old
gentleman sat back in his chair, and scoured his spec-
tacles with a piece of chamois, regarding the rector
beamingly.
"You can't think how I appreciate this little talk,
he said. "It's the companionship, the interest, the
feeling that there's one human being in the universe
that think's one's ideas something to be proud of. I
can appreciate this, who have been alone so long, and
have had to hold to science with the tenacity that some
men hold to sin. Newcastle, he exclaimed suddenly,
34
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
bringing his clenched hand down upon the table,  take
my advice; either marry a woman that understands
you well enough to live in your world, or die unloved
and unlamented! 
"You are quite right, I am sure, murmured Deme-
trius in a low tone, for the discussion of the domestic
affairs of another seemed to him rather a delicate sub-
ject to discuss.
"I forgot; you are already affianced, added the
professor after a moment's thought. "Well, I've
heard the most charming reports of the lady, and I am
sure you've made a good choice.
At this moment the real object of his call occurred
to Demetrius, and he related to the professor the story
of Miss Lamar's arrival in town, hinting how lonely
the two women must be in their present situation.
"Ah, indeed, said the professor, musingly. "Yes,
I knew the girl's parents. Her father is a harum-scarum
fellow with large ideas, but exceedingly unreliable. I
never saw the daughter, but I've often heard the Max-
wells speak of her. It is unfortunate she should have
been so utterly spoiled.
 Spoiled—how ? 
"Why, in the bringing-up. She has grown up a
veritable heathen, without religion, education, or dis-
cipline.
 Is she uneducated ? 
 I believe she can speak three or four languages
and play the harp, responded the professor, with a
laugh.
"There are some good schools, even in South Ameri-
ca, I believe, observed the rector.
"Of course. But Miss Virginia preferred traveling
with her parents to remaining in school, and her wish
was law. I don't know how they happened to send her
away at all. Perhaps they're just beginning to see
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
35
their mistake. But, of course, we would be delighted
to have her come here for the present—that is, I'll
consult Mrs. Burroughs. And he touched a hand-
bell and gave a message to a servant, requesting the
presence of his wife.
But that lady, having made her appearance, gra-
ciously greeted the rector, and listened to his story,
met the proposition of her husband with little shrieks
of alarm. "Oh, never, never! How thoughtless of
you, Herbert, how—how cruel! Just escaped from an
epidemic, you say—a dreadful, infectious disease, and
you would risk my life! 
 Certainly not, Madeline, if you are afraid. But
we ought to do something for the poor child.
"Well, send her a couple of servants. We have
more now than we know what to do with. And she
has a lady with her, you say ? 
"Yes. She expects to return to Bogota as soon as
possible, said Demetrius.
 Ah, that terrible country, sighed the lady.  I'm
glad I'm not compelled to live there. I should fee!
like Alexander Selkirk on the Isle of Patmos.
"St. John, my dear, prompted her husband, in a
low aside.
"Well, What about him ?
 He was on the Isle of Patmos, you know.
"Oh, was he there, too-? It seems to have been
quite a resort for great men, doesn't it ?  rattled Mrs.
Burroughs, inconsequently; at which Demetrius, over-
come by an uncontrollable desire to laugh, was com-
pelled to suddenly busy himself in observing some
unique specimens of ferns growing in the window.
So it was arranged that an elderly serving-man, for
years in the employ of the Burroughs family, should
be sent to sleep on the Maxwell premises and serve
Miss Lamar and her chaperone. Nevertheless, the
36
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
rector still felt he had not thrown off his responsi-
bilities in the matter.
The fear of contagion quite isolated the young girl
and her companion from their neighbors, and she was
thrown more than ever on his sympathies. It might
be months before she could return to her parents, who
were now traveling probably far from post-offices, and
evidently assured that their daughter was under the
best of care in the seminary where they had placed
her, as they had not written for some time, and there-
fore could not at present be traced or communicated
with.
Meanwhile she was little better than a prisoner in a
big, lonely house, with nothing to occupy mind but
a chest of pretty costumes, in which she arrayed
herself for her own amusement. Books she did
not seem to care for; but it occurred to Demetrius
that he might be doing a service to this wild, untrained
girl by interesting her in them, thus turning her mind
to more serious thoughts and aims than had evidently
before engrossed it. In short, with the true intuitions
of a clergyman, he believed it his duty to do a little
missionary work with this naive, pretty heathen.
Therefore to make more variety for her, he arranged
that she, accompanied by Asunta, should come to the
rectory three afternoons each week, to take lessons in
English literature. These afternoons were those he
occupied in his parish visiting, returning about four
o'clock; and Virginia, arriving about three, would spend
an hour with his aunt. This arrangement occupied
a good deal of Virginia's time, and but very little of his.
He gave a short talk on literature and kindred topics,
lasting less than half an hour, after which tea was
served with thin slices of bread and butter, and
Senorita Lamar, with Asunta, went home at the early
edge of the long, wintry dusk.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
37
He soon found that Virginia, while not an intel-
lectual type of woman, had a quick, bright mind, and
he grew interested in its development. But when he
sought to imbue her thoughts with the higher ideals of
religion, he found himself not so successful. She lis-
tened calmly, then remarked: "I don't like the idea
of self-sacrifices. They're not pleasant. Why should
one always do things one doesn't want to do ? Why
not do the things one does want to do ?
"But you should think of others.
Virginia regarded him curiously, her eyes full of
speculation. Finally she said: "I wonder why lam
not as good a subject to think of as anybody else ?
"You may be; but it is not grand and ennobling to
always think of one's self.
"But I don't want to be grand and noble, replied
the young lady; "I only want to be happy. Don't
you want to be happy ?
The words somehow stirred a chord in Demetrius's
ascetic nature hitherto untouched. He was sitting at
his writing-table, and Virginia was ensconced in an
easy-chair by the window, an open book in her lap; in
an adjoining room his aunt sat industriously sewing,
and Asunta, half reclining in a patch of sunshine,
watched her with reposeful eyes. All the artist in the
rector's nature did homage to the girl's extreme beauty,
and all the ascetic in him rebelled against his admira-
tion of it, as if it were a sin to regard so highly color
and outline—mere physical beauty—unmindful of the
soul; for the girl seemed without the first sentiments
of religion.
This made his manner toward her unconsciously
curt, severe, and slightly authoritative. Of this he
became aware through a curious circumstance. One
evening on his return Virginia came to him with a
small package in her hand, which, being opened, dis-
38
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
closed a small packet of yellow manuscript and a pon-
derous iron key.
"What are these ? he asked.
"I have a confession to make, said Virginia
laughing. "I've broken that little escritoire that
used to stand on the table between the win-
dows.
 How did that happen ? 
"Oh! Asunta was teasing me and I threw a book
at her—don't look so glum; it was nothing but a con-
cordance—and it slipped somehow and struck the little
escritoire, which fell to the floor and dashed to pieces.
That's the worst of a house full of heirlooms; they
never can be replaced, and I knew you would be
angry.
 Angry ? interrogated the rector, in some surprise.
 I suppose I seem stern and disagreeable to you at
times ? He looked at her inquiringly.
Virginia, who stood before a tall bookcase and was
just reaching for a volume, paused and leaned her head
against the crook of her arm, gazing at him specu-
latively. It was as natural for the girl to pose as it
was to breathe; she assumed a pretty attitude with the
same instinct that inspires a bird to sing or a worm to
crawl. That she did this without self-consciousness
might have been because it was inspirational and not
studied. She knew she was certainly, unmistakably
handsome, knew it so well that she never bestowed a
passing glance into a mirror or wondered how she was
regarded by strangers at a first meeting. Neither had
she any of that craving for homage and admiration,
which is sometimes the heritage of women who hope
they are beautiful, but are not quite sure. She enjoyed
herself thoroughly and happily; was glad that she was
tall and supple, that she had pliant muscles and smooth,
firm skin; that she had fine eyes she could speak
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
39
through, and held her head erect; but that which she
had most cause to be thankful for she did not realize
—that fine dramatic power, the gift of strong emo-
tion, which alone could render these other attributes
effective.
Looking at the rector, she saw a personality not
handsome, but strong and somewhat unusual. There
was a contradiction between the fine serenity of the fore-
head—that of student, poet, and idealist—and the
lower part of the face, full of the bold determination,
passion, daring, and recklessness of the outlaw, or, it
might be, the adventurous disposition of the Bohemian;
all this lit by a pair of changeful, unfathomable, fasci-
nating eyes—the one real beauty of his face.
"There are two of you—Mr. Newcastle, she ex-
claimed, "one the rector of St. John, and 
 And the other? he queried, as she hesitated.
 I don't know the other.
"Ah, neither do I, replied Demetrius.  I hope
he's a good fellow.
Virginia laughed.  By the way, I forgot to tell you
what I found in the old escritoire, she said.
"What was it ? 
"An old manuscript, faded and yellow, and an
immense iron key—like the key to a jail. Let me get
them for you. She went to a desk in the room, and
from it took a little roll of paper and the key. "I'm
curious to know about them, she said. "Whatare
they ? What is the key for ? 
 I don't know—never saw them before. They must
have been in a secret drawer which was broken by the
fall, for I never came across them.
 May I read the manuscript ? 
 Certainly, if you can. But the ink is faded and the
chirography is very peculiar. I don't believe you can
make it out.
4°
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"Yes, lean. I've already deciphered some of it.
If you like I'll make a copy of it for you, so you can
read it with ease.
"Pray do, answered Demetrius, thinking it would
occupy her mind for a time. "And that reminds me, if
you can decipher bad handwriting, I wish you would see
if you can make this out. He produced a pile of
manuscript from a drawer, and laid it before her.  It
is, as you see, a collection of sermons written by my
late uncle, the Bishop, which I want to publish in book
form. But the writing is almost illegible.
"Oh I can read it easily, replied Virginia, looking
it over. "I've a natural gift for deciphering obscure
handwriting, and I have always said that if the worst
came to the worst I would go to the Dead-letter Office
at Washington.
So after that Virginia's visits to the rectory increased
and her duties widened. She sat at a little desk in the
room adjoining the rector's study, copying the Bishop's
sermons, and Mrs. Harper grew quite fond of her. It
finally fell to the girl to make the tea of an afternoon
and cut the little thin strips of bread and butter; then
just at dusk she would catch the first echo of the rector's
quick, nervous tread as he came up the walk, and a
warm flush would creep over her face and her heart
bound deliciously as she heard his latch-key in the
door. Over the tea he always had some little story to
tell of his afternoon's work down by the river, where
the factory-hands lived their work-a-day, painstaking
lives—sometimes a funny anecdote, which Virginia
liked better ; and knowing this, Demetrius stored up all
the laughable incidents he heard of to tell her.
But he had yet to learn that his little sermons had
not been without effect; and he was made aware of
this by a curious, if not shocking, incident.
Word came to him one day that a woman that was
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
41
dying desired the last sacraments of the church. She
was not one of his parishioners, but she had been for-
saken by every one—kindred, church, and neighbors
alike—as she was suffering from a deadly and extremely
contagious malady; and she had heard that the rector
of St. John's never refused to administer consolation to
the dying under any circumstances whatsoever. This
was true, Demetrius believing it was a sacred obligation
of his office, though he was careful to take every pos-
sible precaution, both regarding himself and others.
Accordingly, late one afternoon he wended his way
down to the poorer part of town, through narrow,
filthy streets, and finally, striking a level, sandy road,
walked about half a mile along the banks of the beau-
tiful Hudson. The house he was in search of stood
alone, a three-room cottage painted a dull yellow,
and surrounded by the remains of what might have
once been a thrifty garden, now a wilderness of rag-
ged cornstalks fluttering loosely in the keen October
wind. There was not a sign of life about the place,
but a flag, the sight of which was enough to make a
nervous traveler turn back and seek another road,
waved warningly from the door-post.
Entering without knocking, Demetrius found himself
in a small room already gloomy with the approach of
night, for it was unlighted; a faint wood fire glimmered
in a broad stove; and near it on a couch was stretched
a big brawny fellow, who looked up without words,
but with a face terrible in its despair, its dogged sul-
lenness. It needed but a few words to tell all; the
rector was too late, the woman having died a little
before he came.
"You are Tim Farrell, aren't you? asked Mr.
Newcastle. "I thought your face was familiar, I've
seen you at our mission. Are you sick, too?
"No; my leg is broken, returned the man, point-
42
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
ing to the disabled member, which was in splints.  I
haven't moved for two weeks. I'm an engineer and
was injured in a railroad accident. That was the be-
ginning; since then everything has gone like hell.
"I'm sorry I didn't know of your need before,
replied the rector. "Are you alone ? 
"Until this morning. My wife died of exposure.
She was getting well all right, but she didn't have care.
This morning a young girl came in, I don't know
where from, but she was with my wife when she died,
and she's here now in the next room, taking care of the
baby. She's walking the floor with him, and I guess
he's better, for he hain't cried for a long time.
The rector pushed open the door of the room re-
ferred to, and saw a girlish figure walking up and
down the room in the dusk, a baby in her arms. At
first glance Demetrius thought she looked familiar,
though her back was toward him and it was twilight.
Hearing his step she turned and faced him; he regard-
ing her with unutterable horror and astonishment.
"Virginia! You here! he said sternly. "What
does this mean?
 Hush!  she whispered, "the baby's asleep. I've
been walking with him an hour. He's very sick. But
he must be sleeping very soundly for he hasn't moved
for so long. Perhaps I might lay him down.
She cautiously peered down toward the little face,
which was cuddled in her neck; then gazed at Mr.
Newcastle with frightened, faltering look. "I'm—
I'm afraid the baby's dead, she said, tremulously.
Demetrius took the child from her just in time; she
sank to the floor like a snowflake, not unconscious,
but nerveless and inert. For the baby was indeed
dead, and had evidently been so for some time.
The rector, much shaken, laid the child beside its
dead mother and returned to Virginia, who had re-
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
43
lapsed into wild convulsive sobs and cries.  It suf-
fered so—it suffered so—I can't bear it. Take me
away — take me away from {this dreadful place!
she shrieked, with such awful moans and wails that
Demetrius was distracted.
"Virginia! stop this at once!  he commanded, tak-
ing her wrists firmly in his hands, and even giving her
a slight shake by way of admonition. "For shame!
Don't you know you are in the presence of death? Be
quiet, and come with me instantly! Then with
unsteady hands he drew on her wraps over her limp
convulsed figure, for it was his one thought to get her
away from that place of death and danger.
But as he was drawing her toward the door Tim
Farrell raised on one elbow and beckoned the rector.
 Bring her to me, he Called^  It won't hurt her to
stay a minute longer, and I want to speak to her. I
don't know who you are, he said, as Demetrius
brought Virginia to the couch.  I never laid eyes on
you before to-day and I may never see you again. But
I want to tell you something. You're young and
pretty and happy—and I guess you're a rich young
lady and have got lots of friends. But if the time
ever comes—pray God it won't—when you haven't
a friend in the world you can turn to, when you
are as wild and despairing as I am to-day, when you
can't make a move to help yourself—when you're
bound and helpless—when God himself forgets to hear
you—when the earth is iron and the sky is brass—-
come to Tim Farrell—I'll die for you, do you hear me
—I'll die for you! Not because you came here and
risked your life,—but because you cried about the baby !''
And the big, brawny, powerful fellow, whose face had
been so hard and sullen but a moment ago, fell back
on the pillow and gave way to the grief that had con-
vulsed Virginia.
44
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"I'll send some one to you at once, Tim, said the
rector, visibly affected. "You shall have care; pray
be comforted: God does not forget you.
But the words fell on deaf ears; Tim Farrell neither
heard nor understood them nor cared for them. He
turned from the rector and held out his hand to her
who had not tried to comfort him, but had grieved with
him in that language there is no mistaking.
The next moment they were outside, facing a keen
north wind, which struck them like a tonic. Virginia
was now calm, the hysterical agitation having passed
away as suddenly as it had come, leaving her
naturally happy disposition ready to assert itself. The
two walked in silence the greater part of the way back
to town, and stealing occasional glances at her com-
panion's face, she saw it was of a ghostly pallor, his
mouth firm and set. Once her hand having brushed
his as they walked along, she looked up and said: "I
suppose you are vexed with me.
"Vexed! The rector's tone was indescribable.
Then he burst forth: "Virginia, why have you done
this thing ? 
"That's a pretty question for you to ask, said Vir-
ginia, sulkily.  I'm doing what you told me.'
 What I told you? Never! I never advised such
a thing.
"Oh, you did indeed! You told me to make sacri-
fices and things—and—and do things for other people.
 Of course, answered the rector, "but in a case
like this you should have thought of the terrible risk,
the danger to yourself.
"You said one shouldn't think of one's self!  Then
as her companion was speechless and apparently doing
a tremendous amount of thinking, she added softly:
 Didn't you mean what you said ? 
"Certainly; but you are so—so literal, groaned
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
45
Demetrius, wishing with all his heart at the moment
that this girl who had fallen to his care was on that
island where Mrs. Burroughs had consigned Alexander
Selkirk, or some other inaccessible spot, and wonder-
ing if the worst came to the worst, just how far he
would be responsible for her death. '1 What I meant,
he explained, "was that you should take life more
seriously. But I think you had better discontinue
parish visiting and confine yourself to your studies—
that is, if you live! 
"I might as well, said the young lady, "since
nothing pleases you! 
And Virginia did live and continue to thrive; but
the incident and the ensuing conversation made a
curious impression on Demetrius.  Since nothing
pleases you !  That was the keynote of the whole affair
so far as Virginia was concerned; she had not been
actuated either by fear of God or love to humanity.
She had taken the awful risk simply and only to please
the rector of St. John's!
Demetrius knew that when a girl is young and has
little to occupy her mind, it is entirely probable that
she will fall in love, or fancy herself in love, with the
first single man that crosses her path; and in this view
of the case he blamed himself for not having spoken
frankly of his own love-affair to his ward in the
beginning of their acquaintance. He had not done
this, simply from reticence and natural reserve, and,
though his engagement was known throughout the
town, Virginia had little opportunity to hear of it on
account of the seclusion in which she lived.
He now resolved to tell Virginia of his engagement,
and man-like he did this as brutally as possible. One
day she came in with a book in her hand, and seating
herself in his big reclining-chair, watched him as he
wrote at his library table, waiting until he should be
46
that girl from bogota.
ready to review her lesson. At last, impatient of
delay, she asked: "Are you writing a sermon, Mr.
Newcastle ?
 No, a letter.
"To whom ?  she persisted, with the insistence of a
spoiled child.
"To my fiancee, responded Demetrius, quietly but
distinctly. He carefully blotted the page he had just
finished, turned the leaf, and had written several lines
on the next page before it occurred to him that the
room was very quiet. Glancing up he saw the girl
had fainted.
"God forgive me, thought the rector, as he rang
the bell; "I told her to take things seriously.
CHAPTER IV.
a minister's night in new york.
Meanwhile work on the memorial chapel had been
commenced, loads of cut stone being brought and
dumped near its proposed site, which began to resound
with the hammer and chisel of stone-cutters and the
shouts of drivers to their horses. The fifteen
government one-thousand-dollar bonds were yet to be
converted into cash, a duty that Demetrius had post-
poned through pressure of other matters; and he now
set upon the following week in which to make his trip
to New York. Meanwhile another responsibility fell
to him.
As he was passing a house on the suburbs one day
he was greeted by a little old lady in mourning, who
had walked down to the gate to see him. It was one
Mrs. Brewster, whose son Demetrius had known in his
boyhood.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
47
Demetrius half guessed her errand; he had heard
that her son Ben was conducting himself in a way
hardly creditable, and knew his mother was sorely
anxious. Her first words confirmed his intuitions.
"You remember my Ben, don't you, Mr. New-
castle ? 
"Certainly, Mrs. Brewster. What news have you
of him ? 
 None at all. For three months all my letters have
been returned with ' Not found ' and a big red hand on
the envelope. And, O Mr. Newcastle, if you could
only see him I think you'd be the very one to reclaim
him. He was always so fond of you. Do you think
you'd recognize him if you saw him ? 
"I might, but I'm not sure of it.
"Just come in for a minute, and I'll show you his
latest picture, cried the old lady, eagerly. "Such a
good one as it is, and, leading the way to the house,
she conducted the rector into a funereal parlor where,
in a dainty frame on the mantel, was a photograph rep-
resenting a handsome, dare-devil face, which the rec-
tor pronounced Ben to the life.
"Now, went on Mrs. Brewster, with conviction,
 as soon as I heard you were going to the city, I made
up my mind to ask you to look up Ben. You will,
won't you ? 
 But what clew can you give me ? 
 I'm afraid not much of any. He has a friend there
in college, Robert Merwin, whose address I could give
you. Perhaps he would assist you. Will you try, Mr.
Newcastle ? I would go myself, but there are so many
places where you could go and I could not. A clergy-
man can go anywhere. Promise me you'll go to him—
no matter where it may be, just as I would do if I
could. He was such a good boy, but he took to bad
ways.
48
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
Demetrius promised, though the errand bid fair to be
difficult of accomplishment. He had heard things that
no one had dared to mention to thexlistracted mother;
for there was a rumor that Ben had left the business-
house by which he had been employed very suddenly and
under somewhat suspicious circumstances, and that he
had long been associated with a class of gamblers and
sporting-men not at all helpful to his reputation.
As the rector walked toward home he remembered it
was about the hour for Virginia's lesson, though he
hardly hoped to find her at the rectory, for she had been
irregular in her studies of late, owing to the attention
Mrs. Burroughs was bestowing on her. For that lady,
observing that Miss Lamar continued in the most ex-
cedent health, had lost her fears concerning the epi-
demic and had begun to cultivate the young lady,
taking her with her in her morning drives and having
her with her on her afternoons at home, so that it sud-
denly became known that a beautiful South-American
heiress was stopping in the town, under the chaperon-
age of Mrs. Burroughs, and straightway all the neigh-
borhood went mad about "the girl from Bogota.
But this afternoon entering his study, Demetrius
saw a well-known figure ensconced in an easy-chair
before the light wood fire, a book closed over hsr fore-
finger; Asunta, as usual, sitting in the adjoining room,
visible through parted draperies, for that room was
sunny, and the Yuca princess loved the sun.
"Ah! At last my truant has returned, said De-
metrius, hastening in, and taking the hand she held
mutely out to him.  Such tales as I have heard about
my little girl,— fetes, receptions, drives, afternoon teas,
everybody's head turned, and all the town gone mad.
"Yes, Cinderella's godmother has taken her to the
ball, remarked Virginia.
"And no more lessons, eh?
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
49
Virginia looked into the fire.  Do you think there's
any hope of my becoming intellectual ? she asked.
 There's no doubt about it. I expect you to be-
come a second Hypatia, said Mr. Newcastle,'who was in
excellent spirits. "Why, only this morning I saw the
superintendent of our mission-school, who told me you
have a class of boys and that you are the best teacher
in the school. He says the boys are rough, wild street-
urchins, and have hitherto been exceedingly hard to
discipline. But he said he'd never seen such perfect
order and attention as they have shown under your
charge. 'It is evident,' he remarked, 'that Miss
Lamar knows how to make religion interesting, and I
look for great results from her work among us.' 
Virginia listened to this with her big brown eyes
sunshiny with fun. "I suppose I ought to tell you,
she said, "that I haven't been teaching a Sunday-
school class at all.
 What have you been doing ?
"Why, I've been telling the boys stories out of the
Arabian Nights. That was the only thing that would
keep them quiet. Their favorites are ' The Forty
Robbers' and 'Aladdin.' But I always had a moral,
though the boys thought it took up too much time.
Do you think it is so very wrong ?
 I cannot judge until I know what the moral was.
What was your moral for Aladdin ? 
"Oh, I told them that each of us has a lamp like
Aladdin's, that is the bright cheery part of our natures,
which should be kept constantly bright and shining;
and that, if when everything looked dark we would
burnish up this happy part of us, at last that great and
dreadful- genie which the world calls Circumstances
would come and kneel before us, saying: "I am thy
slave—command me !' 
Demetrius laughed and then sighed, "That's very
5°
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
clever in a way, he replied; "but these boys need
the catechism and the Ten Commandments before they
are launched into philosophy and metaphysics.
"Then shall I give up the class ?
 Yes; better give it up.
"Well, said Virginia, in a resigned tone, "I'm
afraid I'm not much more of a success as a Sunday-
•school teacher than I was as a parish visitor. I see
nothing ahead for myself but to be a vain, gay, giddy
woman of fashion, such as one reads about in English
novels.'
 I had begun to fear you had become so already,
returned the rector, and there was a slight touch of
feeling in his voice.
"Did you miss me ?
Demetrius murmured something inarticulate and his
eyes were eloquent—for he had missed her. Not
wishing to meet his glance, Virginia looked aimlessly at
the mantel, where her eyes encountered a photograph in
a quaintly designed silver frame which she had never
seen before, but which she recognized intuitively—a
fine, proud, patrician face, surmounted by a pile of
brown hair heaped high on the well-set head.
"What do you think of my fia-ncee? asked the rec-
tor, following her gaze.
Virginia rose and walked backward a step or two in
order to get a better light on the picture, and, clasping
her hands behind her, tip-tilted her pretty chin in
silent criticism. "Her nose is crooked, she replied
at last.
"Never! cried Demetrius, with asperity.
With one accord they made a dash at the portrait
in order to arrange it for a better view, their heads
bumping together as they reached the mantel.
"There! exclaimed Virginia; "if you'll look at it just
like this—so—you'll see—oh! oh!
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
The iast words were an agonized shriek. In getting
too close to the mantel the girl's skirts had caught fire
and a long tongue of flame swept up her dress. It
seemed but an instant before Demetrius had caught up
a large bear rug, wound it tightly around her, smother-
ing the flames, and put Virginia, who was much sha-
ken by the accident, into the big chair, where she sat
pale and very quiet, but not suffering, for the fire had
been extinguished before it had done any injury.
"I'm so sorry, she said, suddenly, pointing to the
floor, "your picture is spoiled.
Demetrius looked down and saw that by some move-
ment of haste and excitement the photograph had
been hurled to the hearth, where the glass had broken
into a hundred pieces and the frame and picture had
been ground under his foot as he fought the flames.
Gazing at the dainty thing as though he saw it not,
he stood beside Virginia's chair, his hand resting on
its high back, where a lock of her curly black hair
brushed his fingers. Suddenly the girl moved her
head sideways in order to look straight at him, her
lips parted as if to speak, her breath coming quickly.
Demetrius bent his head to listen. "What is it ? he
asked.
"I'm sorry I said her nose was crooked, she whis-
pered
The rector's face relaxed. "Why all this contri-
tion ?
 Oh, the fright, I suppose—that long horrid tongue
of flame reaching for me like a living thing—but it
seems to me now that I'll never have another ugly,
hating thought. Her eyes fell on the fragments of
"the picture, with its twisted frame and broken glass.
"For I did hate her, I did, I did—{ hated her at first
'sight, I wished she might die, I 
: She broke off suddenly, turning her face away.
52
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
The rector was silent and motionless, his eyes on the
floor, like a man solving a problem. The lower half
of his face awoke and became expressive; his mouth
setting itself with a sort of grim determination. He
did not speak.
The silence was not bearable to Virginia, who went
on, with a desperate resolve to turn the subject:  Do
you hear that pine outside? 1 Hush, hush!' it says.
Oh what a prudent tree ! 
"Yes, the pine is a mysterious tree. It is fond of
the society of its o;vn species, but birds do not nest
on it and vegetation does not cling to it. Perhaps itis
because of its more ancient lineage and that it dates
back to epochs of the world unknown to any other
living thing, that it is so aristocratic and reserved. It is
as natural to be retrospective under a pine as it is to
be gay under a honeysuckle.
Spurred on by the feeling that he must talk, must
say something at any hazard, Demetrius had, with
the ready wit of the orator, talked on without having
much idea of what he was saying. Virginia replied in
the same vein.
"I wish the old pine would tell some of its awful
secrets and traditions. But that reminds me, I have
a secret, too—something I must tell you.
"Very well, he said. "A secret is always better
told than kept. I'll stow it away in that part of my
memory that already contains the confidences of half
my parish.
 My secret is not an ordinary secret, like those of
your other parishioners, pouted the girl, with a touch
of pique. "Mine is great, uncommon, and weird.
"Is it? Then it shall have a little corner all to it-
self, like a saint in a niche.
 It is so strange you'll not believe it at first. You'll
say, 'Impossible!' Then, as it grows more and more
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
53
probable, you'll be so astonished, so horrified, so
delighted. For, Mr. Newcastle, I've made a startling,
a remarkable discovery.
 Indeed! 
"Yes! In the old manuscript I have been copying.
 I am all curiosity. What is it ? 
"Come nearer, she whispered, "you are so far
away.
Demetrius was standing close to her big arm-chair,
but he came nearer by dropping on his knees, thus
bringing his head on a level with hers. A strange con-
viction came to him at that moment that had he been
at the distance of half the world away from this girl,
and could have heard her voice saying "Come
nearer! he would have traversed the intervening
space and come to her and knelt beside her, as he was
doing then.
But at that moment, while the secret was trembling
on her lips, the front door opened and closed
with the decided emphasis which was unmistakably
Mrs. Harper's own, and Demetrius came to his feet
in time to meet his aunt, feeling as if he had just
awakened from a dream.
After Virginia had gone he picked up the crushed
photograph of his fiancee and looked critically at it.
"Her nose is crooked, he thought. "Strange I
never noticed it before! 
Two days later the rector went to New York.
Remembering his promise to Ben Brewster's mother
he made an earnest and persistent search for the mis-
guided young man, without the smallest success. The
house by which he had formerly been employed knew
nothing of him, and the junior partner hinted with
some severity that should any information be obtained
concerning the young man's whereabouts no one had
any greater reason for being glad to know it than the
54
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
firm. Even Robert Merwin, the young freshman at,
Columbia, professed to have lost track of him; alto-
gether it seemed a hopeless case.
So far as the business matter was concerned which
had prompted his trip to town, all went smoothly.
Mr. Newcastle sold the government bonds which he held
in trust for his church through Cantrell & Baldwin,
bankers and brokers, 38^ New street, a well-known firm
on the Stock Exchange. Demetrius had selected this
institution, as the senior partner, Mr. Baldwin, amulti-
millionaire, director of four or five banks, and a heavy
owner in New York real estate, was a personal friend.
From this house he received a check for $17,287.50
on the Park Place National Bank.
. Upon being introduced by a clerk of Cantrell &
Baldwin to the bank, and asked by the teller how he
would like the money, Demetrius decided to take the
twenty-seven hundred and eighty-seven dollars and
fifty cents in cash, chiefly in one-hundred-dollar bills,
to meet immediate payments on the chapel. For the
rest of the money he took three certificates of deposit
in his name, each one for five thousand dollars.
On the evening of the same day a room at the Gilsey
House presented a picture of repose and comfort.
The curtains were drawn close, the glare of the electric
lights was mellowed by yellow globes into a soft glow,
and a big chair drawn up before the grate contained
the rector of St. John's, who, having friends in the city,
had spent considerable of his afternoon in social calls,
and was glad to come back to his hotel this evening
for a little rest and quiet before going to his train,
which left the Grand Central Station at eleven o'clock
that night. His face was unusually grave, for he was
disheartened at his failure to discover the erring Ben,
and dreaded to face his mother with this story.
He was wondering if any other steps could be taken
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
55
in the matter when a servant brought up a card bear-
ing young Merwin's name, who, being shown up,
proved to be a slim, downy-lipped youth, who met the
rector with a touch of nervous embarrassment, which
Demetrius did not understand until later. Merwin
threw off his wet surtout with a flourish, for it was a
very stormy evening, and drew up to the fire at the
invitation of the rector, who added:
 It was extremely good of you to come, Mr. Mer-
win. Have you heard any news of Brewster ?
"Well, yes, Mr. Newcastle, I've a little news; not
very good, though.
"Any is better than none. What is it ?
Young Merwin coughed slightly, and, catching up
the poker, regarded it as if it were an object of peculiar
interest. And at last he said: "The fact is, I've seen
him.
"That's good news. Where did you come across
him ?'
The boy crimsoned and laughed nervously; then
remarked "Of course anything I say to you will be
regarded as strictly confidential ?
"Speak freely, replied Demetrius; "you need have
no fear of me.
"Thanks, awfully. You know I'm in college, and
if anything were to get out there'd be the deuce of a
row with the faculty.
"I see.
The two young men looked frankly at each other
across the hearth. The rector was barely ten years
the other's senior.
Robert, gaining courage by the look, proceeded with
his tale:  Well, you see, the way of it is this. There's
a game down-town that some of the boys have got onto—
excuse my slang—and I've slipped in there a few times
to try my luck. I never risk much, for a powerful
56
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
reason. I heard some of the boys say that Brewster
had been there pretty regularly of late, and seemed to
have had no end of luck; so I went down last evening,
and, sure enough, there he was, looking like a lord.
Thought first he wasn't going to speak to me. Finally
I managed to get him aside and told him you were in
town and wanted to see him—had a message from his
mother, and all that—and asked him to call on you at
your hotel.
 What did he say ? 
"He said 'Not by a——' Oh, I couldn't tell you
just what he said, word for word; but what he meant
was that he'd see himself—er—er—well, he won't
come, don't you know ? 
The rector caught up the poker which Robert had
laid down, having no more use for it, and surveyed it
in turn. Finally he said:  Where is this place ? 
 I beg your pardon ? 
 The faro place, you know. I'm going down there
so as to catch Ben unawares.
 Oh !  gasped Merwin. "I can give you the ad-
dress, of course, but I'm afraid it's no use; they
wouldn't let you in, you look so deuced ministerial. 
Demetrius inspected his "customary suit of solemn
black  reflectively.
"I may be able to get you in, went on Robert,
"though I'm only a novice myself. They never admit
any one unless he is introduced and vouched for by one
of the habitues. I will gladly accompany you, though
unfortunately I've an engagement which will prevent
me from remaining.
 What time will Brewster be there ? 
"At about half-past nine, he: said.  He comes
early and stays late.
Demetrius glanced at his timepiece. "It is now
eeven minutes of nine, he said. "At eleven I must
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
57
catch my train for Cragskill. I shall have time to go
down to this place and see Ben for a few minutes
before going to the station. If you will accompany me
and introduce me you can, of course, leave immedi-
ately to meet your engagement, and earn my gratitude
at the same time.
The young man threw on his surtout with alacrity,
bubbling over with suppressed fun over the novelty of
the situation. He surveyed the rector in his severe
suit of black—his serene, high-bred face, and whispered
mischievously: "Oh, I say, can't you assume a little
depravity, just for once ? 
Newcastle smiled. "I think that's hardly neces-
sary, he said.  I shall figure as one of the victims
just drawn in. Besides, there must be many a gambler
who is yet in appearance, if not in finer feeling, a gen-
tleman. A rose even when dragged through the mud
is yet a rose and not a thistle.
 Certainly. said Robert, with a touch of gentleness.
Then he added:  It's awfully good of you not to lec-
ture me, you know. I thought you would, and came
up here a hopeless martyr. But if it would please you
I'll give you my word I'll never touch another card, so
help me 
 Thank you, said Demetrius, interrupting him and
putting an affectionate hand on his shoulder.  I don't
demand a promise, because I have faith in your own
sense of right and tenacity of purpose without it. You
don't need to lean on a vow. Whenever you think
of me, let it be as one who does not put gyves upon his
friends, but trusts them! 
"You're right, cried the boy, his face lighting up
with an awakened purpose.  I see, he added, laugh-
ing, as they left the room,  that Ben is in for it if you
catch him. If I were determined to be a gambler, I'd
fight shy of you.
58
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
On reaching the street Demetrius caled a cab, his
companion gave the driver the address, and they were
soon on their way down-town.
They had driven a block or two when the rector
started with a sudden recollection and exclaimed:
"Ah! we must go back—hi! driver! and tried to
get his hand out of the cab window.
"What is the matter? 
 I have twenty-seven hundred dollars in cash on my
person, said Demetrius. "I might be robbed and
murdered for it in such a place.
"You don't run the slightest risk in taking it with
you down to Dawson's, laughed Robert. "Unless
you bet it, it will be as safe there as in the Bank of
England!
 What do you mean? 
"Just what I say, said young Merwin; "for this
reason: It would be the ruin of the house were it
known that robbery had been committed there. In the
next place, no suspicious characters pass its doors. As
I told you, no one can gain entrt to the place without
an undoubted introduction. Your money is perfectly
safe, I assure you.
Demetrius hesitated a few seconds, then told the
man to drive on. The rain was still falling steadily; it
was the wettest and most disagreeable of November
nights.
After twenty minutes or so the driver pulled up his
horse before a fine large brownstone residence in a
quiet street. The whole house lay wrapped in dark-
ness and silence. It had the appearance of a place
temporarily closed on account of its owner's absence
from town.
"See this bell? said Robert, pulling it as he spoke.
"It looks like any ordinary bell, doesn't it? But it
doesn't make a particle of sound wtrnn it's worked
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
59
that way. The right way is to turn it round like this.
He suited the action to the word, and they waited.
Presently there came the sound of the cautious with-
drawal of bolts, the careful lifting of chains; then the
inner, then the outer door were unclosed, revealing a
glimpse of a hall paved with black and white tiles and
dimly lighted by a red swinging lantern. The young
man who acted as porter greeted Merwin with a confi-
dential nod and admitted them both to the vestibule,
where a brief conversation was held between the two,
after which Robert and the rector were allowed to
enter. The man in attendance took their hats, coats,
and umbrellas, giving them checks in return, after
which they entered a large, luxuriant parlor, in the
center of which was a faro-table. The whirl of the
roulette ball was heard faintly from the next room.
Though so early, a few were already engaged in play.
Facing them, across the table, sat the dealer, a grizzly-
haired, iron-jawed man, with a countenance resembling
a bad newspaper cut of Bismarck, holding an unlighted
cigar between his teeth. Beside him lay a great pile of
chips in national colors. Demetrius noted with a quick
glance that Ben was not there.
"Wait a minute; I'll run up to the cafe and see if
he's about, said Robert. Demetrius accordingly
seated himself in a luxurious arm-chair; where a few
moments later he was joined by Merwin, who whis-
pered: "Brewster isn't here. But it's early yet. It
isn't quite half-past nine.
 You have an engagement, I believe ? 
"Yes; so sorry. We might come to-morrow night,
perhaps ? 
 Unfortunately I must return to Cragskill this even-
ing. You think Brewster will undoubtedly be here? 
"Yes, unless he should have been extraordinarily
successful or unlucky last night. When he's in funds
6o
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
he takes a little time to spend the money; when luck's
against him he swears off and makes good resolutions.
"I see. Well, you need not remain any longer.
I'll wait a little. I don't like to leave, as long as
there's any hope of catchmg him.
"All right, whispered Robert. "I've made things
square with the people here, and you'll be treated first-
class as long as you wish to stay. He wrung the
rector's hand, and the next moment Demetrius heard
the front door close behind him.
Newcastle now began to notice more particularly
his surroundings. He noted that the carpets were Ax-
minster, blood-red, that the portieres and window-
hangings were the same color, and that the walls and
ceilings were tinted in soft neutral hues, the former
hung with fine pictures, among which he recognized,
with a shock of astonishment, a copy of Raphael's
Madonna and the Child.
Several men came in quietly, one after the other.
There was a profound silence over the faro-table, as
the cards were turned, but at each result a buzz of
exaltation from the winners, and a few muttered curses
from the unfortunate. In the roulette-room the
crowd, however, were more noisy. So Demetrius sat
on, noting the peculiar manner some men placed their
chips to indicate their bets, and discovering what was
the meaning of a copper.
From observation of his surroundings, he passed to
notice individually the different players, trying to form
some estimation of the effects of a life of chance and
change upon the character, and noting in the manner
in which each took his gains and losses, the disposition,
force, and fiber of the man.
It was too much like the game of life to be wholly
novel. Some played deliberately, with long pauses, as
though they listened for some inward monitor to prompt
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA. 61
them; won, more often than they lost, and finally dis-
appeared with unmoved countenance; others gained
a little, but not knowing when to quit the game
remained until misfortune overtook them.
But the thing that surprised Newcastle most was that
some in the throng were apparently gentlemen whose
quiet ease of bearing bespoke for them a station of
life equal to his own. It was impossible to read in
many of those well-bred faces whether they lost or
won. To be sure, there was an intensity in it all; and
now and then a gamester swaggered in, whose manner
and conversation smacked of the Bowery; but, for the
most part, Demetrius felt that he was in the society of
well-bred men.
Absorbed in this character-study, the rector began
unconsciously to enter into the feelings of the players,
and this led him to draw near the table, so that he
might more closely watch the game.
Next he began to speculate on the chances of the
cards as they came out.
In one player he was particularly interested—a youth
apparently barely twenty, with a frank, honest face and
the nervous manner of the enthusiast. He sat down
near Demetrius and risked twenty dollars' worth of
chips, and in the course of a little time had
accumulated a hundred dollars, which he staked
on the knave. Splits came, and the bank
took half of what he put up. After a few min-
utes the knave won, however, and he got his
hundred back. Then he backed the ten-spot. It won.
He backed the eight-spot next, and the same deal cop-
pered the nine. Both bets were successful, and with
a pleased air the youth raked in two hundred dollars'
worth of chips. Then the young man bet the limit on
the six, four, and deuce, and coppered the seven, five,
and tray. All the even numbers proved winners and
62
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
he only lost on two of the coppered cards. He had
now won four hundred dollars in all.
Following the game intently, Demetrius found that
the young man had a system, and that system was bet-
ting on the second numbers from the first winning
card after the soda, against each intervening num-
ber, provided the cards were in the case. The
divine, calling mathematics to his aid, now fell to
figuring on the chances of each card turning up win-
ner.
Then came the last "turn. A tray, deuce, and
king were in the box.
Following his method the youngman called the cards
after his system and won, receiving four hundred dol-
lars from the bank. This deal had netted him about
a thousand.
Following his almost absurd system, the young
gamester in five more deals had to his delight
and the astonishment of the lookers-on won about
two thousand dollars. Then fortune changed and
he lost steadily until he had only a hundred dollars
left, which he put up on the last turn. The dealer
raked the chips in.
The young man had really lost about a hundred dol-
lars of his own money—a mere bagatelle to some, a
great deal to others whose financial lives move in nar-
rower orbits. The boy, who looked like a clerk,
turned away with a sob in his throat. His loss meant
more to him than any of the crowd about him guessed.
He had fallen in love, and hoped by some lucky short
cut to be able to marry his sweetheart.
Acting mechanically, the youth assumed his coat and
hat in the hall, took his hat and umbrella, and surrep'ti-
tiously dashing the hot moisture from his eyes started
for the door. As he reached the vestibule a detaining
hand was put firmly on his arm, and turning he saw
that girl from bogota.
*3
standing beside him a tall gentleman with a fine,
strong face and burning, luminous eyes, who held out
to him a one-hundred-dollar bill.  Try it again !  he
whispered.
It was Demetrius Newcastle.
The young man hesitated, astonished; then with a
slowly brightening face accepted the money, and they
both returned to the gaming-parlors. Fortune again
favored the bettor, and content this time to win back
what he had lost, the cautious boy refused to play
further, paid back the one hundred dollars he had
borrowed, stowed away his own in a meager pocket-
book, and left the place.
Demetrius stood a moment, stupidly holding the
hundred-dollar bill in his hand, then invested it in
chips, sat down deliberately at the table and began to
play—for as he had looked on the game, he had in-
vented a system! The demon of mathematics—he
called it mathematics?—filled his soul and made him a
gambler.
As he played, the clock told him it was past
eleven, and he had missed his train. It was not trains
that interested him now—it was cards. The money he
was venturing was disappearing like dew before the
sun. Twice he bought a thousand dollars' worth of
chips, then played on with quiet but desperate con-
centration.
When the last hundred dollars of cash in his
pocketbook was gone, stepping to the cashier's desk
he demanded chips for one of his three certificates of
deposit on the Park Place National Bank.
At the sight of his five-thousand-dollar security the
cashier looked interested, but referred him to the pro-
prietor.
The banker, Mr. Pete Dawson, a stoutly built man of
about fifty, square-jawed, genial-eyed, with a drooping
64
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
grizzled mustache, easy, bluff in his manner and frank
and pleasant in his conversation, eyed Demetrius with
some curiosity as he approached him and faltered out
his wishes.
"Mr. Merwin has said you are all right, he ob-
served. Then with a quick glance at the certificate of
deposit he added: "Mr. Demetrius Newcastle—glad
to see you! Come, my dear fellow, and have some
supper and we'll talk this matter over.
With this he led the way to the dining-room, on the
second floor, and the two seated themselves at a table
graced by the snowiest of damask and glittering with
the finest cut-glass, china, and silverware.
"Won't you have something? Not a bird—wood-
cock—heads just dropping off from them ?  suggested
the host.
 No, nothing to eat, something to drink, mur-
mured Demetrius, hoarsely.
 Here, boy, cried Mr. Dawson, to the darkey at-
tendant, "bring us a bottle of Mumm's Extra Dry, or
would you prefer Brflt ?  This last was to Demetrius.
 I will take brandy, if you please.
 Certainly. Now what can I do for you ? asked
the keeper of the house, as the clergyman drank the
liquor feverishly.
 Cash this certificate on my indorsement. You
.know I was introduced by Mr. Mervin.
 Yes, I know all that, answered Dawson, "but I
won't take the certificate. It's too much risk. If you
stop payment to-morrow the law is dead against people
in my line.
 Suppose I get a note from Mr. Baldwin, the senior
member of Baldwin & Cantrell, 38^ New street, saying
my signature is correct ? Would not that alter the
matter ?  pleaded Demetrius.
Mr. Dawson reflected, while Newcastle drank another
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
65
glass of brandy. Then the sporting man spoke slowly.
441 will cash that certificate with Mr. Baldwin's signa-
ture on top of yours. I know his signature very
well, he added grimly, and spoke the truth—Mr.
Baldwin sometimes took a flyer in the game below.
44 Ah!  said Demetrius, the fire of the gamester in
his eye.
44 On one condition: that you agree, in case you lose,
to remain in this house, Mr. Newcastle, until after
banking hours to-morrow morning, and this certificate
is collected and paid to my account. You will excuse
my making this point, but I have been done out of my
money too often on stopped checks to do business any
other way. You know, of course, that the courts have
decided that we can't collect moneys lost in the way
you propose to risk yours.
441 accept your proposition, muttered Demetrius,
and in a moment had left the house.
The rain was still falling but he did not heed it. His
brain was on fire—every nerve was trembling. His
one thought was to win back the twenty-seven hundred
dollars he had lost, and to do this he must have money
—more money to put up. Had he not devised a sys-
tern—a mathematical system that was sure to win ? It
must win—it would win, he would make it win, for,
Great God ! he had gone too far now to retrace his
steps.
These thoughts went through his mind over and over
as he. jolted through the streets ip the cab to the resi-
dence of Mr. Baldwin, on Madison avenue. This
gentleman he found at home, at a dinner-party. He
xame immediately to Demetrius on receiving his card,
astonishment in his face, which did not decrease as he
held out his hand to the young clergyman, whose com*
pressed lips and strangely brilliant eyes impressed him
curiously.
66
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"Mr. Baldwin, said Demetrius, immediately, "I
wish to get the money on these certificates to-night.
Will you indorse them for me ?  He held the docu-
ments under the Wall street man's eyes.
 To-night!  exclaimed the senior partner.  How
can you get the money to-night ? Banks are closed,
you know.
Here the Devil assisted Demetrius with a lie. "I
can get it from the proprietor of my hotel, he said.
 I hardly think he would have that amount in his
safe, said Mr. Baldwin.
"Well—at least some of it.
The banker hesitated, for he was unfavorably im-
pressed, even somewhat startled, by the bearing of his
guest. He was also somewhat disgusted at being called
away from his gentleman friends with whom he was
chatting over the after-dinner wine and cigars, while
from the drawing-room came now and then a ripple of
laughter from the ladies, whom they were about to
join. The quickest way was to oblige the rector. So
he hastily repaired to his library, where Demetrius
wrote his name upon each of the three certificates and
the banker O. K.'d each signature over his own in-
dorsement. Then the host of the dinner-party hastily
excused himself, for a burst of merriment from the
gentlemen in the dining-room warned him that he had
lost at least one good story that evening.
Half an hour later Mr. Newcastle was again at Pete
Dawson's. He found him smoking comfortably. "Very
well, said that gentleman. "Do you agree to stay
here until this is cashed in case you lose ? 
Demetrius replied in the affirmative with an impa-
tient gesture.
"If you win, continued the proprietor, "we will of
course return you the certificate of deposit for checks
you may turn in to us, and cash any chips you may
that girl from bogota.
67
have above the same. Now, how much of this do you
want to turn over to us ?
Then Demetrius astonished the gambler. He hand-
ed him three certificates, each for five thousand dollars^
without a word.
Mr. Dawson looked at him a moment and bit down
hard on his cigar. "This is a high-roller, he thought
as he watched the young man go up to the table and
sit down to play. "There'll be the biggest game to-
night at my house in years. Of course in the old days
of Ben Wood and Morrissey it would have been but
little, still this is an echo of the dear old times when in
Saratoga and New York, without police interference,
men bet their thousands instead of their hundreds, and
won and lost fortunes in a single night.
CHAPTER V.
a helping hand.
It was monstrous, inconceivable! He whose mission
it was to rescue others, who had taken upon himself
holy vows before God and man, who never in his life
had played at a game of chance, or even partaken of
the frivolous amusements ordinarily so seductive to the
young—now burned through every nerve and fiber
with the fierce insatiable desire for hazard and for
gain! Nor was he pricked by any sense of shame or
weakness; on the contrary, he exulted as though he
had achieved a victory; he reveled in a realization of
freedom and liberation of soul, as a prisoner suddenly
set free.
For an inherent weakness, when first discovered,
seems like strength.
68
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
Whence came the power of temptation to such a
man ? Perhaps it was an unsuspected taint of blood
transmitted from some distant ancestor, which, sleep-
ing through generations of just men, woke now with
all the wild rapacity of a tiger's thirst for blood.
The very atmosphere about him was a dangerous
auxiliary. The silent air was teeming with the toss of
fortune, the uncertainty of chance; one breathed it
like an impenetrable fog; it crept into the veins and
the marrow of the bones like an insidious poison.
One thing, even in the delirium of that night, he
dimly understood — he had just awakened to a new
department of his being, which he had always pos-
sessed, but which hitherto had lain dormant and inert.
It was not a new thing; he had been cold only because
the spark and tinder had never met before. He had
found his other self. For this man was possessed of two
individualities, and while living in one was unconscious
of the other. For this reason he entered into his un-
used self suddenly and with exuberant joyousness of
heart. There was no wavering, no struggle, no hesi-
tation, no haggling with conscience; he gave all at
once and with complete abandonment. It was a wild
intoxication, vivid and savage, in which the soul, gone
mad, laughs at the world and God.
It is needless to chronicle all the annals of that
shameful night. The game went with varying chances.
Sometimes he won a little and exulted in the triumph
of mathematics and his system. More often he lost—
and generally his larger stakes—but still he played on
with that determination that always comes with the
strain of true sporting blood. "All or nothing!
was his cry, as it has been the shriek of many another
despairing gambler.
At four o'clock that morning every penny of the money
Demetrius had held in trust for his church was gone.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
69
Then, mad and desperate, he had torn off his diamond
studs, his sleeve-buttons, scarfpin, and his watch, and
offered them up. These went also.
Forgetful of his promise to the gambler, he groped
his way out to the vestibule like a blind man, when Mr.
Dawson came to him.
''You've given us the biggest game we've had for a
year. But you're cleaned out, aren't you? he
asked.
Demetrius drew his hand across his forehead. He
looked dazed.
Mr. Dawson held out a fifty-dollar bill.  Accept
this from the house, said the professional to the ama-
teur, in kindly tone.
Demetrius seized it as a drowning man would
clutch a rope, and started for the gaming-room.
But Mr. Dawson's arm barred entrance. "You
can't put up that money in this house, he laughed.
"Why not—who will prevent me? cried Demetrius,
struggling.
"I will! That fifty I've given you carries my luck
with it. You'd win back all you'd lost and the entire
establishment beside. Why, my friend Phil. Haskins,
of Denver, lent fifty dollars to a cleaned-out gambler,
and went that day on a trip up the mountains to Colo-
rado Springs. A week after, he comes back and, meet-
ing his partner on the street, says, ' Hello, old boy,
how's biz?' 'There ain't any!' answers his pard,
who looked down in the mouth. ' That blasted Seven-
up Bill came back with that fifty you lent him and won
all he lost, and the house, and the business, and the
real estate, and the bank account. He owns every-
thing. He owns us ! ' Oh, no! you don't bust Peter
Dawson up in business with his own fifty!
"You want me to stay here until banking hours—until
you have cashed my certificates? muttered Newcastle.
70
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
 I'll keep my promise, but I warn you, it will be an
insane man you will let pass your doors. The rattle
of those cursed chips drives me mad now. A few hours
more of it and I would be a maniac. A baneful light
came into the rector's eyes, such as Dawson had seen
with suicide behind it.
"No, you may go! said the gambler shortly.
 You—you trust me?  faltered Demetrius.
"Yes, because you are a clergyman, I trust you!
You are the Reverend Demetrius Newcastle, of Crags-
kill-on-the-Hudson. You dare not stop the payment of
those certificates. The scandal of it in the newspapers
would ruin you more certainly than the loss of the
money. Peter Dawson does not cash checks for fifteen
thousand without knowing all about the man who's put
his name on the back of them! answered the sport.
Demetrius assumed his overcoat and hat in silence.
 Can you direct me to another gambling-house in this
city? he asked as he reached the door.
Mr. Dawson looked at the young man and rubbed his
chin reflectively. "You'd better go home, he said.
"It's morning, you know. Everybody's closing up.
Good day, Mr. Newcastle. Come in again when
you're in town—always glad to see you.
A moment later the rector of St. John's stood upon
the sidewalk in the damp, raw November air. After a
moment's hesitation, he walked rapidly eastward.
In New York, proceeding in a direct line east or
west, one comes to a river. Demetrius, walking
mechanically, his head down, facing the cold sleet,
went directly east. The residences grew less and
less: tenement-houses took their place; then long,
grim, silent factories; then presently he found himself
upon the docks, lined with all sorts of crafts, whose
sails, masts, and riggings loomed up with ghostly
indistinctness. Here he sat down in a sheltered corner
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
71
and hid his face in his hands, unconscious of the bitter
east wind which swept the docks, searching with keen
breath every nook and crevice.
He sat there like one cut off from the rest of the
world, but he was not alone. A slight figure clad in a
dark ulster with high collar almost concealing the face,
had followed him at a short distance and now paused
near him; and so the two remained for several minutes,
one bowed down, his face in his hands, his elbows on
his knees; the other motionless, watching.
At last the watcher saw the man start up; he mur-
mured something indistinctly, coming deep from the
throat like a sob. It sounded like a woman's name.
Then he staggered uncertainly toward the edge of the
dock. At this moment the spectator sprang forward
and laid a detaining hand on his arm.
 My God!  cried Demetrius, startled by the touch,
 what do you want ? 
 What do you want ?  asked the stranger, coolly.
Demetrius put his hand to his head. ''Oblivion!
he whispered. "To get away—somewhere—anywhere
—out of space—out of time! 
 You won't find oblivion there, said the stranger
pointing to the black turbulent water surging up
against the pier.
 Who are you ? what do you want ? What business
have you prying into my affairs ? 
"The right of one who has looked into these waters
as you do now, and wished for oblivion. Besides, you
have come to me—I am the chaplain of this mission.
"Mission?— muttered Demetrius, looking around
him; and by the faint morning light he saw something
shaped in gothic style, surmounted by a spire and
cross. It was surrounded by a wide platform, on the
farther end of which he and his companion were stand-
ing. Connected with it by a gangplank was another
72
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
smaller craft, which, like the chapel, was moored to the
pier with stout chains; for he had blundered on the
platform of one of those floating chapels devoted to
the religious services of seamen and their families.
But while he stood staring confusedly he was smitten
by a dreadful sense of chill; the chaplain slipped his
arm under his and they went down the gang-plank
connecting the church with the smaller craft.
"Come with me for half an hour, he was saying;
"after that you may do with your own soul whatever
you will.
 That I will do in any case, returned Demetrius,
in a harsh, arrogant voice that was like a slap in the
face, though he was trembling with nervous exhaus-
tion.  I am free this night, do you understand ? I
won't be tracked and talked to.
"Nevertheless, you will warm yourself at my fire,
returned the chaplain, gently.
This expression of good-fellowship elicited a laugh
from the rector, as his guide unlocked a door and
pushed his companion into a warm, lighted apartment
comfortably furnished and strewn with books, papers,
and other paraphernalia of the home life of a single
man. Demetrius sank into a reclining-chair, his hag-
gard face, set mouth, and gleaming eyes making a most
uncanny picture.
The chaplain busied himself for a little about a little
kettle hanging over an alcohol fire, and presently a
fragrant odor of coffee pervaded the apartment, a cup
of which steaming beverage he presently brought to
his guest.  Drink; you are perishing with cold, he
said.
"By all means! let us drink to the success of this
night! cried Newcastle seizing the cup and holding
it up. "More, my good friend, don't stint me.
There! That will down this cursed chill that nips my
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
73
bones. And now, to whom shall I drink this second
libation ?
"I am John Digby, and I have charge of the sea-
men's mission here at East St., replied the chaplain
eyeing Demetrius in a troubled way as he held out his
cup for a second supply.
"Here's to you, friend Digby; you're a good fel-
low. Glad I met you! I'm getting a taste of freedom
—first time. Always been in a strait-jacket. Do you
know—just occurs to me—what infernal fools we clergy-
men are to offer people a chance to damn themselves for-
ever if they so elect; to make it possible, you know—
to throw down the gauntlet! Who could let such a chal-
lenge pass—I couldn't. There's something in the
blood—in the blood—it bites and burns—it demands to
be itself, it rages at this monotonous respectability, it
dashes itself to pieces against the restraints of civili-
zation! My God! how this thing rocks—it quivers
and trembles like a living thing in its death-struggle.
Wish it would break its chains and take us out to sea
—somewhere — anywhere — away from this horrible
grinding in my head. A little yachting excursion,
eh? Great joke on the chaplain—ha! ha! ha! 
The Reverend John Digby sat silent, speechless,
watching his comrade; there was a slightly strained
look on his honest, homely face, and his eyes were by
turns misty and brilliant with conflicting emotions.
When he saw that the combined effect of the coffee,
the warm room, and great mental tension and fatigue
had overpowered his guest, he uttered a quiet  Thank
God! and tipped the reclining-chair so that he
rested comfortably. Then covering Newcastle with a
heavy rug and lowering the lights he stretched him-
self on a sofa, and after an hour of wakeful thought
slept the short intervening time between then and
broad daylight.
74
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
He was the first to awaken. His guest lay motion-
less like one in a stupor. His face, upturned in the
searching daylight was still pale, drawn, and haggard.
Mr. Digby could not forbear watching him for a little,
comparing the beautifully molded temples, ideal brow,
and firm straight nose with the set ferocity of the
mouth, plainly visible under his brown mustache.
Then he sighed and turned away. "A clergyman!
he whispered. "'I knew from the first he was no com-
mon lounger on the docks! 
Next stepping noiselessly in his felt slippers he pre-
pared another pot of coffee on the alcohol stove, be-
ing very fond of this beverage, and unwilling to drink
the decoction when made by less skilled hands. Then
there was a knock at the door and a woman, neat and
elderly, appeared with a tray on which were warm
rolls, eggs, and cream.
The entrance of the woman wakened Demetrius,
and when Mr. Digby turned to say good morning he
was sitting up, his elbows on his knees, looking calm
but somewhat dazed. He responded pleasantly to the
morning salutation, glancing about him with a slightly
puzzled air; then suddenly his head dropped into his
hands, and the chaplain knew that the memory of the
past evening had struck home.
The castaway accepted an invitation to breakfast,
however, with thanks and a smile, though he refused
food, only drinking two cups of coffee with feverish
eagerness. He knew the time was rapidly approach-
ing when he must look his tragedy squarely in the^face
with all its awful details; but meanwhile he was glad
to temporize and ward off as long as possible the keen
sense of his own degradation that was already pushing
him hard.
Mr. Digby, with ready intuition, understood thesitua-
tion, and, instead of plying his guest with questions
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
75
cr offering sympathy, began readily to talk of himself
and his work, in answer to a leading question.
"Yes, these are my quarters. You may think it
strange for me to prefer this manner of life, but a mo-
ment's reflection will show you how much better this
boat is than ordinary lodgings. In this part of town
none are to be had of even a fair description, and
my work compels me to be here all the time. Here I
am secluded, free, and really very comfortable, yet in
the very heart of the people I am serving — the sea-
faring population. And right next door is my little
floating chapel, to which I am moored, and connected
by a convenient gangplank.
 High or Low church? 
"According to the tide.
Demetrius smiled involuntarily; his eyes strayed
over the room, which was hung with trophies of what
might have been a life of adventure. In one corner
was a long birch canoe, suspended lengthwise; on the
walls were displayed wampum belts, beaded moccasins,
a great bow and a bundle of arrows. An Indian
blanket, handsomely embroidered, lay across a low
divan.
 You must have been something of a traveler,
Newcastle remarked.
"I've been a missionary in the Northwest, among the
Indians. Ah! In such a life one gets close to nature.
"Your life here must have many privations and
hardships?
 No, not so much so as you think. The troubles of
these people are simple and easily dissipated. Heat,
clothing, food—and the needs are met. Their religious
life is equally simple. They never question, they
never doubt. They are blessed with the great, blissful,
profound faith of ignorance. The pastor of a fash-
ionable parish has to face far more complex and subtle
7 6
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
exigencies. The aching hearts and intellectual unrest
of Murray Hill and Madison avenue are not so readily
assuaged.
"True; the higher the culture of a people, the
keener its griefs, the more terrible its temptations.
Mr. Digby looked at his guest, thinking,  I wonder
what his temptation was? but said nothing, busying
himself with his breakfast.
After a while the host suggested: "The tendency of
modern religion is to interest the individual in the
heathen or his next-door neighbor, instead of in him-
self. This is easy, but fatal. I can reclaim a cannibal
from a gastronomic love of missionary with less trouble
than I can cure myself of an inherent fault. For ex-
ample, I fancy I could work out your problem easily
and accurately; but my own, simple as it may appear
to others, looks intricate to me.
"But you know nothing of my circumstances or
environment.
 I can speculate a little. You are a clergyman 
 Ah!  cried Demetrius,  how do you know that? 
"You mentioned the fact last night. You are a
clergyman, then, and a sincere advocate of the princi-
pies you teach. You are sensitive, and have a New-
England conscience—perhaps it was brought over in
the Mayflower. You have now come to a crisis and
are pausing on the brink of something. It is your
tendency to be morbid and magnify the evil.
"Magnify it! It isn't possible. I couldn't make it
any worse! Demetrius sprang from his chair and
walked up and down the room once or twice, then sank
back into his seat
"Indeed! is it so serious?
 Judge for yourself. Last evening I went into a
gambling-house after the son of one of my parish-
ioners—was going to reclaim him, you know, and show
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
77
him the error of his ways. Once I was there some-
thing strange came over me, like a new self, a new life
or rather the remembrance of an old one. All my
veins tingled with a passionate delight. I was mad.
I was intoxicated with a delicious exultation. Luck
was against me, but I couldn't stop. I played on and
on—it was like a dream—until I staggered out of that
damnable place this morning dazed, desperate—but
you found me. You know the rest.
 Did you lose much? 
"Seventeen thousand and odd dollars !
"Oh! The Reverend John Digby involuntarily
drew in his breath. He was a short, thin little man,
with iron-gray hair close cropped, prominent features,
and small blue eyes evincing kindness and sympathy.
"Dear me! dear me! he went on.  I hope it isn't
all you have—I hope you have something left? 
 It was more than I had—there's nothing left—not
even honcr.
 Why, this is worse than I had supposed. It is sad
—very sad.
"It is more than sad, said Demetrius, quietly.
 It is criminal! 
"Criminal—why, what do you mean? The money,
then 
 Belonged to my church! 
 Merciful heavens!  exclaimed the chaplain, startled
out of himself.  How calm you are! 
 Yes, murmured Demetrius, with a bitter smile.
 It is a death-bed calmness—the calmness of a crimi-
nal on the eve of execution! 
The chaplain's pale, sympathetic face became
illumined with feeling. "Why, something must be
done, he cried. "Where are you stationed? 
"At St. John's parish, Cragskill. My name is New-
castle—Demetrius Newcastle.
78
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"Newcastle? H-m! Are you any relation of the
late Bishop Newcastle?
 His nephew.
"Nephew of the Bishop! Why this is awful, incon-
ceivable! Think of the scandal if this thing should get
out! The prominence of your position and connec-
tions makes the situation a hundred times worse, more
difficult, more embarrassing. What are you going to
do? Have you any money—any property?
"I have nothing. A small legacy left me by my
uncle I expended when abroad in necessary ways.
The Bishop was too charitable a man to die rich, and
then he had a troop of nephews and nieces to reinem-
ber. I was named after him, as was also a cousin of
mine, who is now on the continent, and whose sur-
name is also the same as mine. No, I cannot make
the debt good; it is out of the question. '
"Can't you borrow it? [Some of your parishion-
ers 
 I have wealthy parishioners, but what excuse have
I for-borrowing seventeen thousand dollars? No, I
cannot ask it.
"What will you do, then? 
 Go back to my parish and make a clean breast of
it all, and take the consequences.
Mr. Digby's breath came quick; his hands trembled.
"But that means ruin! he whispered, agitatedly.
 Utter, complete ruin, not only in the ministry, but
in any calling you may adopt. It means to be iso-
lated, ostracized, banished—do you realize all this?
 Demetrius produced a cigar-case from an inner
pocket, offered its contents to the chaplain, lit one
himself, and finally answered,  It means penal servi-
tude. Then with a slight smile he added, "I don't
think you quite realize the situation, my dear chap-
lain! 
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
79
Mr. Digby produced a white silk handkerchief and
mopped the perspiration from his forehead. "Well,
you are calm! "he said;  or else you don't begin to
feel it all yet.
"Yes, the calmness with which the veriest coward
meets death, responded Newcastle, with a touch of
feeling trembling in his voice. "Not courage or
bravado, but because the soul, conquered and over-
whelmed, realizes the futility of parley or resistance.
"And with your opportunities, your advantages,
said the chaplain, looking at him.
"Yes, everything was in my favor; that makes it so
much the harder. And I was to have been married
soon; I am affianced to a beautiful and noble woman.
 I guessed you had some love-affair. You spoke
her name when you were out on the dock last night.
"Indeed! exclaimed Demetrius.
 Yes; you said ' Virginia!' 
"Eh?
"You said 'Virginia!'
"That's odd.
"Not at all! said the chaplain, warmly. "What
was more natural than that you in such a crisis should
turn in mind to her whom you love and to whom you
are affianced ?
 But her name isn't Virginia.
"Oh! murmured Mr. Digby. "Another compli-
cation! he thought. Aloud he said after a little silence:
"I had a romance once. Such a charming girl—such
winning ways.
"Did she marry the other man?
"Oh, dear no! She married me. He sighed a
little. "She is dead, he added after a pause; and
then after a little,  She was a good woman, though.
He spoke to himself, for Newcastle was leaning for-
ward, his elbows on his knees again, his head in his
8o
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
hands, his thoughts convulsed by one of those flashes
of despair that seized him now and then like a beast of
prey. Mr. Digby put a caressing hand on his shoul-
der:  Come, he said, "let us talk this thing over
sensibly. I am going to advise you out of an older
and wider experience, and you must obey me.
"What do you want me to do ? asked Demetrius,
remaining motionless.
 You shall go back to your parish, take your duties
there again, and work this problem out without pub-
licity.
Newcastle sat suddenly erect. "Never! he said
vehemently. "You don't realize what such a life
would be. Fancy! the sham, the hypocrisy, the double-
dealing, the wolf-in-sheep's-clothing sensation growing
upon one day after day and year after year. To be-
tray one's trust, to wrong one's friends, and then cover
it all with a sanctimonious whine—God! Not that!
Besides without the money that is impossible—give me
something easier!
"You don't deserve anything easy, said the chap-
lain, somewhat nettled. "With your temperament and
disposition it would be actually harder to remain silent
than to speak out and accept the open ruin that would
follow. It would be a temporary relief to you just now
to make a grand fiasco of your life. It savors of the
heroic. But believe me, the soul which quietly takes
up the burden of its unhappy past and fights its own
battles sincerely and in secret is more noble than he
who poses either for public sympathy or public exe-
cration.
The rector's face changed; his eyes sought the floor.
 But I'm not fit  he said at last.
"What nonsense! Are you or your church any
worse because you know now where to guard yourself and
others?
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
8l
 You may be right, said the rector in a low voice.
"I know I am right. No one has lived fifty years
without realizing that he is a puzzle to himself, and if
he is wise he goes to work with awe and a sense of
helplessness to work out his own mysterious problem.
It is only youth and inexperience that are over-con-
fident of themselves.
 But you—you seem like a man beyond the allure-
ments of temptation. You are absorbed in your work,
and you are brimming over with natural goodness.
"I do love my work, thank God! and I never know
a happier moment than when I see some poor soul take
an upward step. But yet ' he paused with a catch of
the breath, looking around the room to make sure they
were alone; then the Reverend John Digby made the
confession of his lifetime. He said:  There are times
when Ifeel constrained to get out of this atmosphere of con-
stant and unflagging piety and go among the gay and the
frivolous ! 
Demetrius looked up, and the two men gazed long
at each other; if they had been women they would
have kissed. The rector walked to the window a mo-
ment afterward and looked out on the dark, rolling
waters of the river without seeing them, his hands in
his pockets, his eyes retrospective. When he came
back he resumed his seat with a smile, saying, "But
even were the qualms of conscience to be assuaged,
what of the money ? 
 You must borrow it. When is the money due? 
 Twenty-five hundred of it will or should be paid
out in about ten days; the rest as the work on the
chapel progresses.
"Ten days?  mused the chaplain. "Ten days are
a long time. Battles have been fought and won,
thrones have risen and fallen, in less than ten days.
Think! is there no one in all the world on whom you
82
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
can call for seventeen thousand dollars—no one whom
you have greatly befriended? 
Demetrius considered. At last he said : "There was
a young Englishman at Oxford who was suspected by
the faculty of some underhand work at his examina-
tion. Under this suspicion he was ostracised by all
the under-graduates, and after dragging a miserable
existence for several weeks, shunned and despised, he
was about tc give up his career when I befriended him,
I was the only one whose evidence would convict him.
I determined he should have another chance in life. I
went to the Dons and when questioned by them told
a lie and said he was innocent.
"You falsified to save him? whispered the chap-
lain, horrified for a moment at the revelation.
"Yes. It was his social damnation if I did not.
He was a younger son, dependent upon his family for
his income. I thought he had the making of a man in
him. He went through his college term, graduating
with credit, and as we parted at the gates of old Oriel,
he clasped my hand and said he would share his last
crust with me. In pursuit of fortune he cama to
America. He is wealthy, I think, and part owner of a
great silver mine in Colorado.
"Then he should respond to you if any man in this
world, replied the chaplain.
A moment after Mr. Digby brought paper and pen
and ink, putting them on the table between them.
"This is your chance, he said quietly. "Write this
man and put it strong.
Demetrius seized the pen and drawing a sheet of
paper toward him, began:
 Dear Carew:
"Years ago when we swore eternal friendship and divided
the world between us, I little thought 1 should ever ask you to
share your half with me.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
83
Then, suddenly throwing down the pen, he cried:
 This is impossible! It is like trading on a favor, a
kindness. I can't do it! 
 Let me write for you, said Mr. Digby. He be-
gan where Demetrius left off and wrote rapidly
several minutes. "Now, he said, "will you read
what I've written?
 No, thank you; I'll leave it to you, since you're so
kind.
"Very well; give me his address.
 Martin Carew, Devil's Gate Mine, Boulder, Colo-
rado.
Mr. Digby addressed and stamped the letter. "I
have written him to wire you immediately on receipt
of this at Cragskill on the Hudson, New York, he
said.  But as I have marked the envelope 'Strictly
Personal,' it may be slow in reaching him, should he
happen to be away from his address. So do not be
discouraged if you do not receive an answer in a week
or so. Three days after this I shall write another
letter to Mr. Carew; the matter is too vital to permit
any chance of accident.
"It means my life, said the clergyman. "My
existence hangs on the postmaster and telegraph,
and the chances of a man valuing a favor done ten
years ago.
With little hope and a good deal of despair on his
face Demetrius assumed his overcoat.
"You must be going?
"Yes; I want to catch the next train. Then he
held out his hand to the chaplain with sudden emotion,
saying: "My friend—my friend! What can I do ?
What can I say ?
The chaplain clasped the hand in both his.  Noth-
ing but this—let our friendship last!
So they wrung hands hard and parted. Mr. Digby
84
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
walked to the window and watched the alert figure of
the young man, as he crossed the street, with affec-
tionate interest. "A fine fellow—most magnetic per-
sonality I have ever met—gifted, proud, sincere, yet
with that fatal artistic temperament that makes such
havoc with practical life. Yes! he will have a strange
and intricate destiny. Between his sin and his con-
science, his church and his gambling debt, the woman
he loves and the woman he is going to marry, I don t
at all envy the rector of St. John's!
Meanwhile Demetrius had gone straight to his hotel,
and it seemed like a stroke of fate that on the steps
he should encounter Ben Brewster, who was smoking
a cigarette with happy insouciance.
"Ah! Have been waiting for you half an hour,
said the young man, shaking hands.  I only want to
say how good it was of you to go down to Dawson's
last night. I wasn't Worth it. But there's one thing I
promise you—I'll never go there again. I'm through
with all that nonsense. I've just secured a first-class
position—shall travel in the West for a firm in the
city. Tell my mother, please, and say I'll write. A
thousand thanks, Mr. Newcastle!
"How did you know I had been there ? asked the
rector, studying his face.
"Oh, Merwin told me. Said he left you there, and
that you returned last night to Cragskill—but I was
passing and thought I'd see if you might not have
stayed ever. I know how repugnant such a place
must have been to you. It was awfully good of you!
Demetrius sighed with relief. Ben evidently knew
nothing. But he realized that his punishment was
just beginning in all its intricate and horrible con-
sequences; knew that the peaceful security of his life
was over forever; that it would hereafter be broken
by treacherous pitfalls, sudden alarms, and the haunt-
that girl from bogota.
85
ing expectancy of untoward revelations—even now he
was speculating on the dangers to the United States
mail bags in the far West.
The next Sunday, aided by an assistant, it was not
until the sermon that he faced his people. He was
deadly pale, and there was that in his face which was
foreign and unfamiliar, something incrutable. As
usual the edifice was crowded beyond its seating
capacity; but as his eyes swept the sea of upturned
faces, two stood out before him distinctly, individually
—the two whose lives with his were even then most
closely connected, the one through a strong personal
attraction, the other through an equally strong per-
sonal dislike; the hard, resentful visage of Matthew
Hardinage and the handsome, piquant, inspiring face
of Virginia Lamar. His eyes met Virginia's and
lingered there an instant as he gave out his text:
'' Now Bar abbas was a robber ! 
CHAPTER VI.
 i am a robber!
"Slower—still slower! There, so! You are as
supple as a willow, you bend like the dipping of a cas-
cade, you sway like a wheat-field in a strong breeze,
your muscles are as strong and elastic as a young
tiger-cat's. You have wings in your feet.
This from Asunta sitting in a reclining-chair before
a window through which the sun fell warmly on her,
a mandolin in her lap, on which she had picked a
quaint air, an improvisation of her own.
Before her, clad in a long loose garment of the order
loved by the early Greeks, her curly hair drawn into a
86
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
knot at the nape of her neck, her feet in sandals of un-
tanned kid laced by thongs of the same description,
her arms bare to the shoulder, stood Virginia, her eyes
blazing, her cheeks glowing with a concentration of
mind bent on harmonious and exquisite movements of
the body.
Every morning under Asunta's apt tuition she prac-
ticed dances whose rhythmic modulations had been
handed down from semi-barbaric tribes like a tradi-
tion; dances known to the ancient Moors, so exquisitely
poetic, so fascinating to the eye, so entrancing to the
senses that the early fathers had pronounced them in-
spired by the Evil One, who in those ages was the
patron of all the arts and sciences.
But little cared Asunta what said the early fathers,
or, in fact, any other. One ambition she had had for
years in secret; and as she looked at the girl before her
it scintilated in her expressive eyes. She wished to
see Virginia the public exponent of some of the most
exquisite, poetic, and harmonious movements of which
the human body is capable; movements which she
knew and had already taught the girl since she was a
child of ten, until now the two often extemporized to-
gether, Asunta on the mandolin or violin, and the girl
readily adapting herself to the music, nay, even acting
it, so perfectly were teacher and pupil in touch with
each other.
Asunta knew there was power, fame—glory in the
girl's mobile, emotional face and wonderfully fine
physique; and with all the intensity of pride and affec-
tion in her she looked forward to the time when this
apt pupil of hers should dominate the world by her
genius. The woman moved through life like one dis-
guised, outwardly passive, willing to serve, inwardly
flaming with this ambition, this expected triumph.
 How strange, she said musingly, "is theindiffer-
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
87
ence people show for the art of movement. Modern
dances are a series of weird acrobatics. They only
arouse wonder as a contortionist might. But there's a
fascination in perfect harmony of motion, combined
with soft touches of music, a mere accompaniment—
that exceeds all other arts. Music appeals to the ear,
painting and sculpture to the eye; but infuse a perfect
statue with life, give it the warmth and coloring of
beauty and health, then with it combine music and mo-
tion—the soft, tireless, entrancing motion of a bird in
the air—ah! that is art.
"One—one—one—two, one-two, one-two, chant-
ed Virginia softly, executing a few quick steps,
every movement resembling the dipping and swinging
of a hawk in the air, so apparently effortless were they.
Sometimes the attitude was a mere pose; the chords of
the instrument were low and hushed; balanced on one
foot, her arms folded across her breast, the top of one
babyish foot in its sandal swayed a little with the
dreamy motion of a branch in the wind; then there was
the hurried crash of a call to arms; the white-robed
figure responded; then indeed there were wings in the
girl's feet, wings on her shoulders, she seemed to tread
on air. The music grew soft again and became a
lullaby.
 I wonder, said Virginia, clasping her hands ov-er
her head and swaying her body slightly, one pretty
sandaled foot keeping time, "why men have so little
curiosity!
 What man ? inquired Asunta, who always came
direct to the point.
"What makes you think I mean any particular man?
pouted the girl.
 It's always some particular man, replied Asunta
calmly.
"Well, the rector, sighed Virginia. "You know
88
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
we found that queer old journal written by his great-
grandmother and I copied it so he could read it easily.
"Who could forget it ? 
 No one who had ever read it. Well, I gave it to
him and what do you think he said ? He handed it
back and remarked: 'Would you kindly keep it for me
a few days ? My papers get mislaid.' Now, any woman
would have lost sleep to read that document after what
I said about it.
"Men don't express their feelings as women do.
They express respect by their actions, love by their
looks, confidence by their speech, and curiosity by
silence.
"I think men ought to be classified and defined in
a volume like the gods in a mythological dictionary,
laughed Virginia. "Tell me more.
 What do you want to know ? 
 Anything. Men are not as sentimental as women,
are they !
"A woman is sentimental when she is young, a man
when he is old. When a woman has given all, the
sentiment in her begins to die: when a man has given
all, the sentiment in him begins to live.
"What do you mean by giving all ? 
 A woman has given all when she has bestowed
her heart; a man when he has sacrificed his ambition.
You limb of the devil, do you want me to come to
you ? 
This last was addressed to the door in the ante-
room, at the transom of which a dark brown face had
appeared, but which retreated instantly, and there
was a scamper of feet on the stairs,
"It's that imp Lubin, that Madame Maxwell brought
with her to run on errands and wait on the door,
explained Asunta, lighting her long reed pipe. "He
crawls up the stairs like a snake, puts a foot on the
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
89
door-knob, and peers in the transom to catch a glimpse
of your dancing.
 Why, that's equal to crawling under a circus tent,
laughed Virginia, merrily.
"I have told him, went on the Indian woman,
 that if he does it twice again he will see a ghost.
"But when he finds he doesn't see one he'll be as
bad as ever, won't he ? asked Virginia, throwing her-
self down on a couch piled with cushions.
 Oh, he'll see one; never fear! 
"How?
"Nothing easier, observed Asunta, taking a whiff
from her slender reed pipe.  He thinks I am gifted
with powers diabolical; he is naturally superstitious.
All I have to do is to merely suggest the ghost. His
imagination will do the rest.
 I'm sorry Aunt Maxwell came home so soon,
murmured Virginia after a pause.  Now I can't wear
her dresses any more.
 It is certainly a calamity, my .heart, assented the
Indian woman.  I prayed she might remain away all
winter.
For with trunks, boxes, servants, horses and car-
riages, and a grand flourish of trumpets, Mrs. Duncan-
Maxwell had arrived a few days before and had taken
possession of her country home, while some slight
repairs were being made in her town house. She had
greeted her niece with kindness, even rapture, for she
was proud of the girl's loveliness; and on hearing the
story of their embarrassment and the rector's timely aid,
she had not only immediately reimbursed that gentle-
man for his financial assistance, but had wept on his
neck, figuratively speaking, in her gratitude. Nothing
like that had ever happened to Mrs. Maxwell or any
of her family. She was astonished that her niece
could take it so coolly. She gave orders at once for
9°
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
half a dozen new gowns for Virginia, and anticipated
bringing the young girl from Bogota out as soon as
they should move to New York, unless her parents
should send for her to return to them.
Virginia seemed passive in regard to her future,
accepting anything that was offered pleasantly but
without enthusiasm. Since the night her dress had
caught fire in Demetrius's study she had not been at
the rectory, nor had she seen the rector save at church,
when his eyes had sought her out with an expression
she could not understand. A feeling came to her,
strange, undefinable, but powerful, that she had the
charm to draw him away from the woman he had
promised to marry and to hold him to herself; and
worse, there were times when she felt that she would
do it—do it against her will, against her conscience.
So, struggling against it, yet drawn toward it, she
spent her time riding, dancing, assisting Mrs.
Maxwell at her five-o'clock teas, or listening to that
lady's woes in Europe—for Mrs. Maxwell was always a
victim, and forever encountering the most disagreeable
people and the most unheard-of and harassing circum-
stances when traveling, a trait she might have inherited
from English ancestry.
In fact, Demetrius and Virginia had now arrived at
that serious stage of friendship when an extremely
strong mutual attraction drew them together, while
their wills, guided by conscience and reason, held
them apart.
Meanwhile a week had passed since the rector's
return from the metropolis, yet neither telegram nor
ietter had he received from his friend Carew in
regard to the loan. At first he bore the suspense
stoutly, but of late it was telling on him strongly. It
was noticed by people in the town who noticed every-
thing and knew everything, that the light in his study
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
91
burned late at night, some affirmed well into the morn-
ing, and his aunt worried because his meals were most
of them sent away hardly tasted.
Otherwise Demetrius was quite himself. He left no
duty in his parish neglected; but there were times
when he fell into brown studies and only came out of
them with a wrench when something claimed his atten-
tion. He had planned a thousand ways in which to
produce seventeen thousand dollars in less than three
months, but usually arrived at the same conclusion,
that there was no sure way but to rob a bank or turn
highwayman. For Demetrius's very calling prevented
him from learning of or taking advantage of many a
business opportunity which might have presented itself
to a man in any other profession.
The sight of the memorial chapel possessed a horri-
ble fascination for the young clergyman, for here it
was that the money he had squandered was to have
been placed. A few workmen were already employed
cutting stone, and sitting on a great block of granite
the rector often whiled away a half-hour listening
vaguely to the ringing blows of their hammers, his
elbows on his knees, his hat pushed back on his head,
a far-away expression in his eyes, while his mind "bal-
anced contrary fates.
During these days he divided his spare moments
between the foundations of the chapel, with its attend-
ant despair, and the telegraph office, that brought him
only a sinking heart and hope defered.
One afternoon returning about four o'clock, again
disappointed, from the Western Union Telegraph Com-
pany, he entered his aunt's sitting-room instead of
repairing to his study as he usually did.
"Virginia's here, finishing the last of the sermons,
said that lady as he came in. "Her aunt will take
her with her when she goes to town, she says; so she
92
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
thought she'd better finish them up as soon as possible.
"Ah! replied Demetrius, hardly knowing what he
said.
"Yes. I shall be sorry to have her go. Do you
know I've become really fond of her. She is the kind
of girl that is rapidly going out of fashion, too.
"What do you mean? 
"Why, she doesn't try to be intellectual, she has no
overruling ambition. She is simply genuine, and con-
tent to be herself in her own way. She belongs, in
fact, to that type of woman who believes that the three
greatest men in the world are her father, her husband,
and her clergyman. In these days of the higher edu-
cation of women such a girl is getting to be rare and
scarce.
"I don't think she belongs to any type, said Deme-
trius. Then admiration getting the better of anxiety
he cried: '1 That's the charm of her! 
He quickly crossed the room and pushed aside the
draperies dividing this room from the library. His
breath caught in his throat as he did so. There was
an odor of violets in the room; there was a girlish fig-
ure bending over a desk, the back of her black curly
head and soft white neck toward him. As he was
crossing the room he forgot his despair and tried not
to think how kissable the bit of white neck was, with
the silky curls lying against it.
"And this is the last?  he said after they had ex-
changed a "good afternoon.
"Yes. She quickly took the manuscript away
from him.
 Mayn't I look at it? 
"No, not now, she objected, her face growing
warm, while she gathered the papers together.
"These—these last pages are done poorly.
"That's no consequence; they only go to the printer.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
93
Pray don't trouble yourself about them any more.
Let me look at the last page, he persisted.
"No! 
"Why not?
For answer Virginia took the last two pages she had
copied and tore them into strips with a determined
face; for as soon as she had heard his familiar step on
the porch her hand had trembled so that the copy was
a bewildering mass of shaky lines, and she would have
died sooner than that he should have seen it and sus-
pected the cause.
"How unkind, murmured Demetrius, watching
her, with a reproachful face.  Something you want to
keep secret?
 I thought men had no curiosity.
 I have, observed the rector.
 What about? 
 I want to know what is going to happen next, he
said recklessly, though his voice was quiet.
Virginia discerned something new in his voice;
looking up she saw something new in his face ; with
ready intuition she felt something new in his mind.
"You've been ill?  she questioned, a shade of appre-
hension in her tones.
 No—oh no!  He walked up and down the room
quietly and restlessly, then*-threw some sticks on the
fire.  Come, he whispered, "one little chat by the
fire as of old.
'' Just one, returned Virginia, joining him. '' Soon
I shall be among the madding crowd.
 And you will be content with all that frivolity ? 
he asked jealously.
"Why shouldn't I be ? You say I am good for
nothing else! I shall have my fling in New York as
you had a few days ago.
This was a terrible retort. Demetrius grew pale,
94
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
and turned away his face to keep her from seeing the
trouble upon it.
'' Ay-de-mi ! What's the matter ?  cried the girl, for
the rector's hands were trembling.
' I've been worried, you know—business and all that,
stammered this man of God, whose life had been for
the last few days an agony.
"That's often the case with poor papa; I could
always cheer him up when he was worried about money
matters, but I've never had any experience with any
other kind of trouble, suggested Virginia in kindly
tone.
"What did you do? 
"Oh, when things began to look pretty dark and
poor, wretched papa was walking the floor instead of
sleeping, I used to say, 'Oh, what do we care?' It
may not be logical, she said with dignity, seeing an
amused smile creep over the rector's face, "and at
first you may not think there's any comfort in it, but
there is.
"And did things come out right afterward ? 
"Yes; though, to tell the truth, I have a better
time when father meets with reverses than I do at any
other.
"Why?
 Because then he always spends money so freely.
 When he has reverses? 
"Yes, he says it cheers him up and makes him feel
rich again. But when all is going well he is inclined
to be penurious, because, as he says, one never knows
what will happen next! 
"Good philosophy! exclaimed Demetrius, "and
in the most condensed form I ever heard it. Then he
sighed, "I suppose all this will apply to my case as
well as your father's.
"No, said the girl quickly, "if you were worried
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
95
about money matters I should talk to you very differ-
ently.
'' What would you say ? 
A look of excitement came into her face; she rose
and going to the desk at which she had been writing
took from it a little roll of manuscript tied with a
ribbon, and returning put it into Demetrius's hand.
"This, she said in a voice that trembled slightly,
"is what I should say to you."*
"What is it ?  he asked, looking at it curiously.
"It's something that will interest you—surprise
you, that is, if you see in it what Asunta and I did.
Promise me to read it to-day—before you sleep! 
"I promise, he answered readily; adding after a
minute: "It's so good of you! I'm so glad you gave
me something to do! It seems so friendly! Then
he went on rapidly and disconnectedly: "You know
there are times when one feels detached from the rest of
the world—awful sensation—people all about you—
things going on, and yet all is like a horrible
dream—like a fall from a precipice just before you
touch bottom.
"What has happened ?  asked Virginia, startled.
"Oh, it's nothing, he stammered, passing his
hand across his eyes,  don't let it worry you.
 If you were to tell me, it wouldn't worry me so
much.
"Tell you?
"Yes, better tell me than trust to my imagination.
"Or to future revelations, mused the rector. Then
he added: "Yes, I'll tell you all you need to know.
 Very well; go on.
Demetrius delayed his answer for what might have
been half a minute, then replied:
 I am a robber.
"Whom have you robbed ?
9 6
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"Myself.
 What have you stolen ? 
 My happiness, my peace of mind.
 Is that all ? 
"All? cried the young man in astonishment.
 Isn't it enough? Did you think me worse than
that?
"I was afraid somebody else had been robbing
you, replied Virginia naively. "It reminds me of a
story Asunta used to tell me.
 What was it? 
 It was about a robber that stole a halo.
"Robber! sighed Demetrius.  I think he must
have been some of my kin.
"Yes, you're the descendant of an outlaw, aren't
you? laughed Virginia, still misunderstanding him.
"As for me, since I have no romantic buccaneer
ancestor, I shall have to make a name for myself.
"As a society belle ?
 No, I'm going to dance.
 On the stage ? 
 Certainly !—She made a moresco pose.
"You shall do no such thing.
Virginia looked at him.  Playing the guardian,
are you ?  she said speculatively. "Ah ! its a dan-
gerous thing for a young lady to give a young man too
much power.
"Absurd !  went on Demetrius, paying no atten-
tion to the question. "You cannot be in earnest.
"But lam, persisted Virginia. "I have been
studying for years some lovely Moorish dances. I
shall make a sensation — you'll hear of me.
"It will pain me to hear of you in that way, said
Demetrius. "Promise me I never shall.
He held out his hand frankly with a smile; she shook
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
97
her head, but somehow her hand went into his, and for
a brief space they sat silent in a kind of ecstatic dumb-
ness. The room was very still but for the great breaths
of air in the chimney; in the fireplace lay a few embers
expiring in the claws of a pair of griffin andirons, which
regarded them with round brass faces of malignant as-
tonishment.
Suddenly there was a sharp peal at the doorbell.
"It is Asunta—she "has come for me, whispered
Virginia, snatching away her hand, and was gone before
he could speak.
With her departure the shadow that haunted his
waking and sleeping moments deepened—the sus-
pended sword which hung over him vibrated and
glistened before his eyes. He sighed wearily and
walked to the window. A cheerless . Novem-
ber day—leaden clouds, bare trees, with swaying
branches, the grass on the lawn turning a brownish
yellow. Down the street came a boy in the uniform of
a district messenger, walking leisurely, and, for some
inexplicable reason, grasping each of the pickets of the
rectory fence as he passed it. This impeded his prog-
ress; he was apparently keeping account of the num-
ber of pickets in a desultory way.
As Demetrius looked at him he felt intuitively that
he was bound for the rectory; possibly he bore the
long-expected telegram from Carew in regard to the
loan. Instantly, every nerve became alive with expec-
tation; he watched the lingering boy with eager at-
tention. Yes, he was entering the gate, he was ring-
ing the bell. A minute later Katie, the little maid,
was tendering him a yellow envelope, backed in a big
scrawly hand, "Rev. Demetrius Newcastle, Crags-
kill.
The rector tore it open, glanced hastily over it, and
read:
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
 Mine flooded; great loss; no money; sorry; letter follows.
Martin Carew.
Demetrius dropped the bit of paper with a few words
not at all in keeping with his profession; then feeling
the presence of some one else in the room he turned
quickly and confronted his aunt, who was gasping with
astonishment.
"Why—what were you saying !  she stammered.
"I don't recall what I did say, responded the young
man, moodily, which was perfectly true. In his per-
turbation he had spoken unconsciously.
The old lady stood irresolute, her white curls bob-
bing on her hollow temples, one foot tapping the car-
pet. Evidently something was on her mind; she was
agitated.
 There is something I want to speak about, she
declared.
"Speak out !  said the rector abruptly.
Mrs. Harper looked around the room to make sure
they were alone, then coming close to him stood on
tiptoe to reach her nephew s ear. Demetrius bent
toward her and she put up both hands to her mouth in
the shape of a scoop, which encircled his attentive ear,
 The seventeen thousand dollars / she whispered shrilly.
Demetrius felt a sudden sensation of cold, and for
the awful half of a minute everything seemed slipping
away from him; then with an effort he nerved himself to
hear what might follow.  Yes!  was all he could say.
"Where is it ? 
 Why do you ask ? 
 Oh, I've just heard something terrible ! 
"Tell me what you have heard, he exclaimed,
grasping her by the arm.
 Don't, you hurt me !  She pettishly pulled her-
self away. "You seize me as if I were gutta-percha,
and I never saw such eyes ! You frighten me ! 
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
99
Come and sit down, said Demetrius, instantly be-
coming gentle.  Now, what is the matter ? 
 Why, it's that robbery. I am all upset. It was at
the Hardinages', you know. The house was broken
into to-day while the family were absent in the city,
and the plate stolen, besides a large sum of money and
some of Mrs. Hardinage's jewelry.
"Oh!  murmured Mr. Newcastle, sighingwith relief,
adding: "Are the thieves likely to be apprehended?
"There are no traces of them, but they are thought
to belong to that gang of Italians working on the new
bridge. And this brings me to the point once more. I
am worried about that money you hold in trust for the
church. We might be murdered in our beds, or they
might rob you, and that would be so dreadful, so
horribly embarrassing.
 It would indeed, assented Demetrius, fervently.
"Well, where have you put it ?
 It's in a safe place, replied the young man, grimly.
 It isn't best that you or any one else know where I
have put it.
 I suppose you are right, sighed his aunt. "If I
were to waken in ,the dead of night and find a body
of masked men around my bed demanding to know
where that money was I—I know I should tell them at
once—I couldn't help it. And then I should feel re-
sponsible for the money, and that must be a dreadful
feeling.
"You are right, replied Demetrius, struck by the
correctness of her observations.
"It seems to me you are not looking well, said
Mrs. Harper, scanning him through her glasses. "I'm
afraid you work too hard. Don't sit up late to-night
working on your sermon. A simple talk would be just
as good. You're too deep, anyway, for this place.
People don't half understand you.
IOO
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"You are right again, dear aunt, responded the
rector, an expression of grim humor lighting his face,
for he was again forcibly struck by the sagacity of her
remarks.
"There's the tea-bell, said the old lady, rising, as
two or three silvery chimes rang through the house;
and her nephew offering his arm with an old-fashioned
courtesy he knew she liked, they proceeded to the din-
ing-room.
But Demetrius did not act upon the advice given
him; he walked his study floor until late that night,too
restless to sleep, too perturbed to work. His mind
was a chaos. It was about eleven o'clock when his
eye caught a little roll of manuscript, and he recollect-
ed the promise he had given Virginia to read it ere
he slept.  If you were worried about money matters^
this is what I should say to you, she had said. She
was such a child, he mused, to think an entertaining
narrative could ease one's mind of heavy financial dif-
Acuities; but then, she did not know!
As he unrolled the leaves a soft perfume floated up to
him. He buried his face in the transcript of the old
record and in a few minutes a sense of calm stole over his
spirit. Seating himself before the fire, and drawing his
table nearer him he faithfully began to peruse the manu-
script, though Virginia could hardly have asked any-
thing of him that would have been more incongruous to
his present feelings than to have concentrated himself
on this ancient journal,teeming with the hopes and fears
and joys and burdens of a life that had spun itself out
in a bygone century.
that girl from bogota.
IOI
CHAPTER VII.
the pirate's wife.
Cragskill, September 3, Anno Domini 1767.
I call to mind the day Uncle Jeremy gave me this
little book. It was just before my husband and I
came to these provinces. My good uncle said:
"Thou'rt a quiet lass, slow of speech and great of
heart. In this thou do'st well. Nothing is so fatal as
to talk out the heart to living listeners; moreover, it
behooves the spouse of a clergyman to speak once and
listen a hundred times. Yet it is good to have a lis-
tener who will never backbite nor tell foolish tales.
Take this little volume, and when thou'rt tempted to
gossip or untoward confidences, tell your thoughts to
this friend, who, if thou'rt careful with it, will never
betray thee.
So I took the book, and when it hath been written
to the end I shall, I doubt me not, put it on the great
logs blazing on the hearth and allow my thoughts and
opinions to fly up the chimney. Or, it may be that,
slack guarded or forgotten, it may descend to future
generations to be smiled at by those who know me not,
nor care, yet who will be flesh of my flesh and bone of
my bone.
In truth it is a great wonderment to me how slack
the tie between parent and offspring, and how this
bond of blood, after a generation or two, is almost
entirely effaced. Of my own father I have always had
a fearsome dread, not without reason. Truly it is a
sin and one I eschew heartily to regard a parent other-
wise than with candor and sweetness, yet though I
might talk starchtly and affect ignorance of what he is
at, can I forget that he slew my mother by his neglect
IG2
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
and cruelty? This of a truth he did; yet he hath the
visage and demeanor of a gentleman—God help the
whiles! I can yet see his towering figure of great
strength, but slender proportions, his fine face marked
by noble features, and, most of all, his eyes, of brilliant
softness and peculiar strength, insomuch that when I
was a child I would take a smart beating from my
mother, notwithstanding she had a firm will and a
right lusty arm, without shedding a tear; but when my
father was angry and turned and looked at me fixedly
I would scream fearsomely and run and hide, tears on
my checks and my heart all abeat.
Of a truth my father came of good stock and was
intended for the church. But while quite a lad he
imbibed a love of gambling that could not be stopped.
Yet he had many friends, some high at court; and
His Majesty the King, whose foot may God set on the
necks of his enemies—a sentiment I dare not, for my life,
utter aloud—gave him command of a privateer, and he
hath been sailing the high seas ever since. But strange
stories have been afloat concerning him; they claim he
is loyal to no flag, not even his own, and I have heard
a rumor that a reward, having been offered by the
King for his apprehension, he has gone cruising into
unknown seas, which I pray may be true. I have
even now such a deadly terror of him that I should wish
to run and hide as I did of old, if he should enter
and fix his eyes on me all a-scowl.
This is a sin I know full well; and once each week
I fast because of it, besides reading aloud to my good
husband one hour each day from a book of sermons
sent him from Mr. Addison, who was his tutor at
Magdalen College. There are times, God forgive me,
when I wish that my husband were gifted somewhat
more in affection and less in learning; which proves
that I am but a weak and ordinary woman, unfitted
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA. 103
for the holy vocation to which I have been called.
October 15th.
The day hath come that my good uncle foresaw
when he gave me this book. A great calamity hath
befallen us, and one I hardly dare discuss candidly
with my husband, inasmuch as he seems ever to know
what I say, though he were a league away. For he,
my father, arrived last night from unknown ports and
hath signified his intention of taking up his abode with
us at the rectory.
It happened in this way: I sat reading my cus-
tomary hour to my husband, who lay stretched in the
settle near the fire, and having been a-parish-visiting
and sorely weary had fallen asleep at "firstly. But I
still read on, for as my good mother taught me, the
irksome task hath great reward to the soul; when
there came a furious rapping at the outer door, an
impatient stamping of feet and the murmur of a blat-
ant voice above the storm, for the rain fell roundly and
there was a high wind.
My heart quaked, for it did remind me of one whom
I hoped never to see more. The maids came running
in all afright, not daring to open the door, which had
been stoutly barred for the night; but my husband
waked and going to the hallway demanded who it might
be and what was wanted ?
"You cursed idiot — to come in, shrieked a
voice I knew full well; "think you a man stands
here on such a night for pastime or to leer at the
moon?
"Who are you? repeated my husband, looking
meanwhile to see that the fastenings were secure.
 I am the father of the rector's wife who lives here,
unless some of his good parishioners lyeth. If she be
here she knows me well by this time. Open quickly;
I can be no wetter, God knows, but I might be of hot-
104
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
ter temper, so be speedy for your own good weal if not
for mine.
Then my husband looked at me and saw that in my
face which moved him to take down the staples
from the door and throw it open. A tall man stepped in,
wrapped in a long black cloak with a broad brimmed
hat drawn down over his head. I sent away the maids
who hovered near us, but I could not for the life of
me move from my place, but stood staring. When he
took off his hat I saw it was indeed my father, grown
older,, wilder, and more uncouth, but still retaining a
little of the nobility of feature I remembered. He
stepped up to the great fire that blazed in the hall fire*
place, warmed himself a bit, then turned his strange
eyes from my husband to myself.
"Still sulking, eh ? he said, stalking up to me and
giving me a chuck under the chin that bit my tongue
and set my teeth a-chatter. "God's rood, it irks me
that I should be responsible for a wench so timorous
and ill-favored. And so this is your pious spouse ?
What! Sniveling again? Come, be through with it
and show me where I can stow a goodly bit of mer-
chandise and some other important luggage out of the
storm.
He spoke with the authority of a reigning monarch
over the meanest of his subjects; and, what is strange,
my husband did his bidding without question. In
truth, he hath a demeanor few can resist or gainsay,
so that even while the listener burns with choler there
is something that catches and holds him like a bird in a
snare. Two boxes were brought in by the men-servants
and set in the hall to dry, for they had been put down
by the stage on the roadside. Then he said in a tone
of better humor:  One thing yet remains, and I doubt
me not it will take us all to carry it.
My husband went with him to the door and peered
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
out; and whilst he did so Jacob, our serving-man, came
to me scared and all a-trembling. "Mistress, he
quoth, "there is that lies just outside that hath the
semblance of a coffin. Shall it be brought hither ?
"Whatever he bids you do, do it, I replied, "for
he is a man of hard consequences.
So presently they all came in, bearing the fearsome
thing; for it was a coffin made of lead or some heavy
metal and sealed with wax or other substance. Then
my husband asked with some acebrity whose remains
lay in it and why he had brought it hither.
"This is the body of my wife, answered my father,
lightly touching it with the toe of his morocco boot.
And then he swore, with words it is not lawful for me
to write, that she had been the worthiest partner
he or any other man had ever the luck to secure.
"And so, he went on, "I have determined to have
her with me, and have fetched her to bury in your
tomb, if you have one; if not, I'll build one. Mean-
while I'll have this casket locked in one of your rooms
and hold the key myself.
Then I, so long a coward, uprose in defiance of him,
telling him that since he had slain my mother with his
cruelty, no other woman should be honored in my
house, dead or alive. With this he looked up quickly,
regarding me, I thought, somewhat with favor. "Per-
chance you have a bit of my blood in you, after all,
lass, he said, not unkindly. "For once you have
spoken like a woman instead of whining like a whip't
cur. All the more, then, do you deserve the mother
I have brought you, for though she now lies in yonder
coffin, she was one of great charm and noble prop-
erties. Come, he said to Jacob, "help me remove
this quickly, lest prying eyes and wagging tongues
should spy us out and spread old-wives' tales through
the village.
IC>6 THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
Then, lost to fear, I burst into a torrent of re-
proaches, declaring that the ashes of this strange
woman, most likely some ungodly heathen, should not
repose under our roof; and at this Jacob would not
obey his command.
"You abject cur! said my father softly, whilst he
turned on Jacob the strange brilliance of his eyes;
"take hold and help me carry this casket hence, or
your head and your body, too surly and illy matched to
stay together, shall part company with the help of my
good sword.
He drew it from his scabbard as he spoke, and my
husband, fearful lest some deed of violence would
smutch the good name of the family and the rectory,
told Jacob to obey, and bade me treat my father with
more civility. So we bethought ourselves where the
Thing should be put, and presently recollected a lum-
ber room on the attic floor where it was, with great
difficulty, deposited, for it was astoundingly heavy.
Then I bade the maids lay out some cold meat and
some bread and cheese for my father, together with a
drop of something hot, at which he regaled himself
with lusty appetite: but naught did he tell concerning
himself, his late wife, nor his adventures, save that he
had sailed on Southern seas, and found his bride at
some foreign port.
My husband hath enjoined the servants to secrecy
and me to civility, so haply we may escape publick cen-
sure and private broils.
October 20th.
My father hath been inspecting our family vault, now
being erected in the new cemetery, and has issued his
commands that his wife shall be placed therein. This
displeases both my husband and myself, for, from what
we can suspicion, the woman was unshrived, and ought
not to have burying place in consecrated ground. This
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
I have made bold to tell my father. He sat in the
hearth corner eying me straitly, and when I had
done speaking he burst into a great convulsion of
laughter, smiting himself roundly on the knee with
open palm.
"Merciful heaven! he cried, when he had done
laughing; "when I hear the railing of this ignorant
jade who prates of shriven souls and consecrated
ground I am fit to burst! Know you, then, that the
Church hath always loved my wife, and such as she,
has begged for her, used her influence in its charities,
its temples, and would even now take her to its kind
embrace did I but will it. But, instead, I will tha't she
shall repose in this family tomb, and that I myself
shall hold the key. My wife is not welcome, eh ?
He was plainly working himself up into one of his
frightful rages. "You do not want my wife, she is not
good enough ? Your body must not lie by hers, not even
when the worms have eaten you ? Kind heaven, I had
better died on the high seas, and given us both to the
fishes, than to have sought this deadly town and spent
my days listening to puling cries about custom, duty,
scandal, and the Church ! Go to, now, and say no
more about it. It makes me hot.
He was walking up and down in one of those dread-
ful paroxysms of choler which yet brings to me the old
terror. He is always attired in goodly raiment which
he brought in his two great boxes, and with his long,
brown locks curling on his shoulders, his fluted shirt-
front, his black velvet knee-breeches with fine silver
buckles, and his red waistcoat, he was smart enough to
have appeared at court and held his own with the best
of them. He spoke of bringing merchandise, but
none has been found thus far, and we durst not
ask him where it is lest it should arouse his anger.
Yet he has money in plenty, his pockets always
108 THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
jingling with yellow Spanish coins of unknown value.
October 30th.
The vault is now done, my father having spent much
time overlooking the workmen and giving commands.
The lead coffin containing the body of his wife was, by
his orders, carried thither at dead of night and, without
a prayer, laid in it. But it has been determined by my
husband and myself that the tomb shall never be used
for the interment of any of our family or kin, and much
we sorrow that the name of Newcastle had been cut in
the stone arch above it before my father came and
claimed the sacred spot for the detestable creature he
calls "his wife.
November 3rd.
These are troublesome times. All the village is
astir with tales concerning my father, and reports have
reached even the Bishop of the burial of this strange
woman in consecrated ground. He hath communi-
cated with us concerning if, and I know not what will
be the outcome.
My father has been absent many days, purporting to
take a journey to Manhattan. He came back raging,
sour; something in his business had gone wrong.
November 20th.
The love of my father for this dead woman is pass-
ing strange. Every day he goes to the vault and sits
by her coffin, after which he returns in a most kindly
humor. The key to the tomb he keeps ever by him,
and I am told he sleeps with it under his pillow.
Now by a scratch of the quill I will betray to this
little book that which I durst not for my life admit to
my good husband—and that is that this dead heathen
woman hath nobler power over my father than did my
sainted mother when she was living. I am touched by
this gracious and unselfish love, defying the unwhole-
some horrors of the tomb itself which the best of us are
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA. 109
fain to flee from, preferring the ashes of a dead affec-
tion to the fellowship of living mortals. •
Yesterday for the first time I made bold to put a few
questions concerning her, asking if she were beautiful.
"Aye, quoth he, with a laugh, "that was she!
"And fair and tall ? said I, to draw him into speech.
"Faith, no. She was more round than tall, and of
a yellow complexion.
 Yellow! I cried, and could not forbear a shudder
of disgust.
"Aye, yellow as the sun, and of a cast of counte-
nance that resembles the kings of Spain, replied my
father, chuckling.
"A Spanish woman, then?
 Yes, Spanish.
"In truth I know you loved her well, I said.
"Tell me, was it for rare qualities of mind ? For a
woman who was fat and yellow could scarce be of pleas-
ing personage.
' 'I loved her, lass, because of her power, answered my
father, sighing. "Come now, say no more about it.'»
December 15th.
My father is giving us much trouble. He hies him
away to other towns and cities and gambles recklessly.
Thisris not in keeping with the circumspect demeanor
of the father of a clergyman's wife.
To-day he came home after several days' absence,
complaining of a sore pain in his side. He had just
come in after an hour or two spent at the tomb. At
this season the place must be rigourously cold and
damp, and I fear he has contracted a fever.
December 30th.
My father died yester e'en. For two weeks he
hath lain in a scorching fever, knowing none of us,
but muttering and raving of brawls and bloody deeds
of violence.
IIO
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
Once late at night as I was watching by his bedside
he beckoned me to him and gripping my wrists with hot
nervous hands he whispered that the treasure was safe,
where none could find it. Now we had conjectured
somewhat as to the merchandise he spoke of when first
he came, but which we never saw nor heard of after-
wards; so I begged him to tell me where the treasure
was.
At this his eyes grew cunning and loosing his hold on
me he pushed me hence saying:  You artful jade, you
think to apprehend my secret with sudden questions!
Think you I could bring treasure across those danger-
ous seas in times of war and piracy ?
Then changing his voice and with the air of address-
ing some unseen person, he suddenly declared:  I do
assure you, my good sir, that I have nothing with me,
but these two boxes filled with a few changes of raiment,
and the body of my dear wife, who died in a foreign
port, and whom I caused to be embalmed that I might
bring her ashes with me.
After that he slept, or seemed to, and I, being sorely
weary with anxiety and long watching, leant my head
against the bedpost, and so lost my senses that I woke
not till broad daylight, much to my shame and alarm.
When I looked to see if my father yet slept I saw the
bed was empty and he was gone. I roused the whole
household, and for hours we searched, for he was not
in the house, nor had any one in the village seen him.
At last, bethinking ourselves of his favorite retreat,
we went to the tomb. The great iron door was ajar,
and on entering we found him lying across the leaden
coffin, quite dead.
It is a fearsome thing to see a human being quit this
world so unprepared for any other, and I am sore
afrighted thinking on his lost condition. God forbid
that this evil taint of blood should descend to our
that girl from bogota.
ill
children's children, as saith the Holy Writ, and smutch
the family honor in future generations.
December 3. On the day of the burial such a
furious storm arose that few attended, and those that
did, evidently from a too prying curiosity. When all
was over we closed the iron door and turned the great
key in the lock, and so that it shall remain forever. My
husband was for casting away the key where none
might find it, saying the spot was accurs't, but I would
keep it, I know not why, and have hid it securely in
the drawer of the mahogany desk where I keep many
relics I brought with me across the seas.
This journal I shall also add, for I wist not I shall
write in it again. . . 
CHAPTER VIII.
"she was round and yellow!
The rector cast down the manuscript as he reached
the last words, buried his face in his hands, and sat
motionless a few minutes, then rose and began to pace
the floor with quick, excited steps.  She was round
and yellow—round and yellow, he burst out. "Oh,
thank God! thank God! She was round and yellow!
Here he laughed—a laugh that shook him from head
to foot, a laugh that clutched his throat like a sob, a
laugh that was a wild, unnatural paroxysm of hilarity.
It was in reality the breaking up of a dreadful nerve
tension he had been under ever since the night he had
gone to Dawson's in search of Ben; the constraint a
strong, proud nature places on itself in time of peril,
scorning to yield itself up to cowardice. He had re-
fused to capitulate to despair, but he gave way to the
first hint of deliverance.
112
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
 Thank God, she was round and yellow! and of a
cast of countenance that resembled the kings of Spain!
I am saved, I am free! 
He walked, talked, and laughed until he was ex-
hausted, then sank back into his chair to think. Even
as he did so horrible doubts began to assail him, doubts
of the truth of his impressions. He caught up the
manuscript feverishly and again perused those portions
referring more particularly to the pirate's wife. Then
lie was reassurred, and, again nervously energized,
began pacing his room.
"I cannot be mistaken, lam sure I'm right, he
thought. "Why, Virginia, bless the child! saw the
import of the thing. ' If you were worried about
money matters, this is what I should say to you,' she
told me in giving me the manuscript. Yes, and there
was a key—a long iron key like the key to a jail.
Where is that? I didn't notice where she put it.
He went to the little desk where she was wont to
sit and write, and lo! a fragrance of violets—a long,
soft gray glove. He snatched it up, touched it with
his lips, and put it in an inner pocket. Then he caught
sight of the object he had spoken of—the great iron
key. Evidently Virginia had purposely put it where
he could find it easily.
With the sight of this key came an inspiration. He
hurried to a closet in the hall where hung a few ar-
tides of gentlemen's wearing-apparel, and selected a
long black coat and a soft felt hat. These had be-
longed to his uncle, and offered more complete dis-
guise than anything he himself possessed.
Having assumed the cloak and drawn the hat down
over his brow, he unfastened the front door and looked
out. A keen whiff of November air blew in refresh-
ingly; a full moon lazily drifted through banks of
downy white clouds in the cold blue sky; the silence
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
of midnight lay like a hush over the little town. With
the long key in his hand, the rector stepped out and
bent his steps toward what had been the old cemetery.
Taking a short cut across lots he arrived at the
place in about fifteen minutes, and no sooner did he
come in sight of the old tomb which had the word
 Newcastle  cut above it than he realized his own
confusion and folly. The manuscript had put him
back a hundred years; he had expected to unlock the
door and walk in as though it were built but yesterday
—or rather, he had given the matter no thought at all.
Now he saw what he would have remembered had he
stopped to think connectedly—that two stout sapplings
grew close up in front of the iron door, which was fur-
thermore screened from view by a network of wild ivy.
Even the earth had encroached upon the entrance of
this weird and deserted burial-place as though to hide
its secret; the door had apparently withdrawn itself
and shrunk inward, and the friendly turf had bulged out
around it, giving nurture to the vines, twigs, sprouts
and other forms of vegetation which had accumulated
for a-century.
Demetrius stopped short at this discouraging picture,
smiling at his own stupidity. "Must be beside my-
self, he murmured, walking around the place to recon-
noitre.  I knew it was inaccessible. He shook the
saplings to test their strength and tore away a por-
tion of the vines to investigate the door. After all it
was not a difficult task to remove the obstructions; the
vines and turf could be easily torn away, the saplings
cut down ;-a good workman could do it all in two
hours.
But what excuse could he give for reopening the old
tomb ? That he was regardful of the bones of his an-
cestors ? His ancient relative had never borne a sa-
vory reputation, and it had generally been considered in
H4
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
the family that the less said about him the better.
His aunt he knew would resist such a thing
with great positiveness. Should he make a confidant
of her ? No, he was not sure, not at all sure, that he
would find what he sought. If he did not find it, the
gossip would be unpleasant—probably would be in any
case. If the pirate's wife was round and yellow, no
one need know it outside his own immediate family;
if she were a heap of dust or dry bones Oh, never
would it do for his good parishioners to know that he
had violated the sanctity of the tomb, greedy for spoil!
Unconscious of the keen, piercing air of the Novem-
ber midnight, Demetrius sat on a bowlder, coming to
these sensible conclusions. They resulted in his go-
ing home at a rapid rate, re-entering the house and
going to the rear end of it, comprising the kitchen and
a wood and carriage house standing near together, de-
tached. In the woodhouse he found what he wanted
without difficulty — a stout, keen-bladed hatchet.
Everyone in the house had retired and, as all slept on
the upper floors, the servants two flights up, no one dis-
turbed him in his peregrinations.
Looking at his watch when he again reached the
vault, he saw it was twenty minutes to one, a very
favorable hour for nocturnal investigations in such a
place as Cragskill, which was noted for its  early-to-
bed9 early-to-rise  habits. Standing hatchet in hand
on the little knoll, in the sidehill of v/hich the New-
castle vault was located, Demetrius swept a searching
glance over his environment to make sure there were
no other midnight marauders who might observe him;
but he stood alone in the dreary waste of forgotten
tombs. From the little elevation he could see parts of
the scattered town; the river winding beneath the great
cliffs, like the coils of a big gray snake; the little parish,
which was in daytime the battle-ground of all the emo-
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"5
tions of which the human heart is capable, now lay
silent, all its little warfares forgotten save in the intri-
cacies of a dream. Only one eye of light was visible,
and that came from the study window of its rector.
He was the only one abroad this night on a secret mis-
sion, the only one whose deeds and conscience made
sleep impossible.
But it was no time for reflection. Demetrius went
energetically to work on the young trees, which were
about twice the size of his wrist, and soon they were
chopped off close to the earth. Then began the effort
of removing the roots and earth which obstructed the
bottom of the door for about six inches. This done,
he attacked the sturdy vines and the turf around the
edges of the entrance. This took longer than he had
anticipated; it were as though half the sidehill had
entered into a league with the door to hide and protect
it from human intrusion. It was half past three before
he had accomplished enough so that the door could be
swung back; and then it refused to budge, the hinges
being rusted and hard set. At last it moved with a
shriek that brought the cold perspiration to Demetrius'
brow, for it seemed as if half the village must have
heard it.
But the time when alarm might have been reasonably
given had passed when he least expected it. As he
was busily engaged in chopping down the saplings a
tall figure in a great-coat with its collar turned up,
carrying a small gripsack, had appeared at the entrance
of the cemetery and advanced down the path until
in sight of the old tomb, when it had paused, and
stood irresolute, looking hard at the rector in a sort of
petrified amazement. The moon was under a cloud,
and the drooping branches of a willow partly screened
his view, but the gentleman, who was elderly, could get
a tolerably good vision of the cloaked figure and its
Il6 THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
movements, and the sound of the busy hatchet came
plainly to his astonished ears. Once he moved forward
as if to solve the mystery from a nearer standpoint;
then, suddenly yielding to what seemed to be a super-
stitious fear, he hastily turned and betook himself to
the highway, from whence he gained the central part of
the town by a longer journey.
Blissfully unconscious of this, Demetrius stood back
when all was finished, regarding his night's work with
satisfaction. He did not attempt to enter the place,
for he had not remembered to provide himself with a
light; but the preliminary work was finished, and now
the rest was easy. Remembering that the hatchet
might be convenient in later work, he threw it inside
the tomb, then closed the door, locked it, threw the
two saplings some distance away among some under-
brush, pulled a few vines around the door to hide its
unwonted nakedness, and cheerfully departed to the
rectory, where, exhausted with his fierce athletic per-
formance, he slept soundly until late in the morning.
He slept, indeed, sounder than did the individual
who had come so unexpectedly upon him while he was
at work, and who was none other than Col. Oppendyke.
This gentleman appeared at breakfast the next morn-
ing looking somewhat perturbed. Seeing the coffee,
chops, and eggs slighted, Mrs. Oppendyke looked anx-
iously across at him.  Aren't you well, dear? she
queried.
"Ah—yes, my dear—that is—have you seen any.
thing amiss about me lately ?  he concluded abruptly.
 Something amiss!  echoed the lady in surprise.
"Yes, anything the matter with my mind ?
"No, dear. Why do you ask ? 
"Because I saw a strange thing last night as I was
coming home from the late train. I couldn't get a car-
riage, you know, at that hour, so I walked, taking.a
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
117
short cut across the cemetery—at least that's the way
I started to come.
"Well, what happened? asked Mrs. Oppendyke,
opening her big blue eyes.
"J saw the bishop / declared the Colonel in a low
voice.
 What bishop ? 
 Bishop Newcastle.
"But he's dead! exclaimed Mrs. Oppendyke in
astonishment.
 I hope it won't make you nervous, said the Col-
onel.  Of course it was a hallucination. Don't let it
bother you. I'm afraid it's taking away your appetite.
 Not at all, dear, said his wife, beginning to dally
with her omelet.  I am only curious to hear all
about it. Where did you see the bishop? 
 He was standing before that old tomb supposed
to contain the remains of that pirate ancestor of the
Newcastles', his big black cloak on, and the hat he
used to wear so much drawn over his face. And what
was funniest, he was cutting down jthe young trees
that were growing in front of the tomb—cutting them
with an ax, hatchet, or something, I couldn't see
what; but I could actually hear the blows. My first idea
was to walk up and investigate; then I decided not to
even attack a ghost single-handed, seeing he was
armed with a formidable weapon, and I had nothing,
not even a jack-knife. Now I believe it was an optical
delusion, but I have no means of knowing, for I've let
the chance slip of proving it for myself.
 Oh, no, you haven't.
 Why not? 
"If it was a delusion the little trees will be found
standing just the same as ever. If some agency was
really there at work, the trees will be found to be cut
down,
Il8 THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"Oh, certainly! I thought of that myself, said
the old gentleman with some confusion, but not alto-
gether truthfully; for the idea advanced had not pre-
sented itself to him.  Quite right. I'll take a stroll
over there after breakfast.
Half an hour later the colonel might have been seen
bending his way toward the old cemetery at quite a
rapid gait, for the vision of the previous night had
made a deep impression upon him. If the trees
were found intact he had had a hallucination which
revealed a morbid mental state certainly alarming;
on the other hand, what object would any living
human being have for cutting down two small sap-
lings at dead of night, when they could easily be whit-
tied down in the daytime without interference from
anybody?
"Good morning, Colonel Oppendyke! You seem
in a hurry, said a voice at his elbow, at which the
nervous old gentleman gave an agitated start, as Mr.
Hardinage held out a friendly hand.
"Good morning, good morning, responded the
colonel, shaking hands.  A fine day, this?
"Yes, for this time of the year, said Hardinage,
cautiously. He always qualified his statements as if
fearful to commit himself. "I suppose you've heard
the news of the burglary ?  he continued as they walked
along.
 Bless my soul, no! Another burglary?
 Yes, old Mrs. Lewison's house was robbed last
night.
"Is it possible ? Have the thieves been appre-
hended ?
 No, but the police and the best New York detec-
tives are already working on the case. They think the
robbery can be traced to the gang of Italian laborers
working on the new bridge. This is the third burglary
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
119
in this town within three months. The authorities are
beginning to arouse themselves.
 This is horrible, murmured the colonel.  When
did it take place ? 
"It is thought soon after midnight last night.
"Soon after midnight!  repeated Colonel Oppen-
dyke, musingly. "That's very strange! 
"Why strange? ejaculated Hardinage, suddenly
looking at his companion.  Did you hear anything
at that hour ? 
 I did, said the old gentleman with some agitation.
 At quarter to one o'clock last night, on my way from
the station—for I had taken the last train in from town
—I reached the edge of this place— he indicated by
a wave of the hand the barren waste of land, including
now and then a brown headstone— intending to take
a short 'cut across to the village. As I reached this
spot right here, where we stand now, I saw 
"Yes, what?  broke in Hardinage, impatiently, for
the colonel, who was corpulent and had been walking
rather fast, stopped to take breath.
 I saw a figure in a long, loose, black garment stand-
ing just beyond the willow, in front of the old pirate's
tomb, brandishing an ax, and apparently cutting down
some small trees, for I could distinctly hear the sound
of the blows. A broad hat was drawn over his face,
and the drooping branches of the willow partially con-
cealed him. To my imagination it looked just like the
deceased Bishop Newcastle, and this gave me the idea
that it must be a hallucination. The moon was under
a cloud; the figure looked like a shadow.
 What did you do ? 
 What did I do ? Why, nothing at all. I
didn't think it necessary to do anything! remarked
Colonel Oppendyke, with dignity.  What would you
have done ?
I 20
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA
"I would have run the other way as hard as I
could, replied Hardinage, with an inscrutable counte-
nance. ''But suppose we take a look at the place.
As this was precisely what Colonel Oppendyke had
started out to do he readily assented, and in a few
minutes they stood before the tomb of the Rev.
Demetrius Newcastle's disreputable ancestor. Here
both gentlemen stood silent with astonishment; for the
trees had been chopped down and the vines carefully
removed from the entrance.
"By George, the door has been opened, exclaimed
Hardinage, who was kneeling on the ground and care-
fully examining the mold.
"What does it mean? queried the colonel, not
without relief, for he now knew he was mentally sound.
"Good heavens! he suddenly added, thumping his
cane on the ground.
 What's the matter ? 
"I think I've hit on the solution of this mystery.
 So have I, responded Hardinage at the same
moment, a thrill of exultation in his voice.
 Well, what is it ? 
 Let me hear your impressions first, said Hardi-
nage, evasively.  Then I'll tell you if they tally with
mine.
 Why, it just occurred to me that that Italian gang
may have taken this tomb as a rendevouz to meet and
to hide their spoils. Is that your idea, too ?
Hardinage hesitated for perhaps two seconds, then
answered heartily: "Exactly! As he uttered the
word his right hand closed over an object he had been
surreptitiously gazing at, and as he rose he carelessly
deposited the trifle in his breast pocket.
"You say the figure that was chopping down the
trees looked like the Bishop ? he queried.
"It seemed so to my excited imagination. By
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
121
George, I've faced shot and shell without a quiver and
without a fear, but when it comes to suddenly dropping
on the figure of a man in an old, deserted burying-
ground, who I know has been dead two years, bran-
dishing an ax in front of a tomb, it's too much
for me. I didn't stop to worry him. I didn't feel
like disputing with him. I left him in full posses-
sion of the place. But if any able-bodied, living,
healthy human being thinks I'm a coward let him say
so, and I'll give him full satisfaction. Here the
colonel offered a cigar to Hardinage and lit one himself.
As they smoked, both gentlemen looked about, discover-
ing the place where the two saplings had been thrown,
and that an attempt had been made to pull the vines
back over the door.
"There's an evident attempt at concealment, ex-
claimed Col. Oppendyke at length.  Something dev-
ilish is to pay, mark my words.
"I believe you, answered Hardinage, who was very
quiet, and whose face wore a mystified expression.
 I suppose we ought to notify the authorities.
"By no means, ejaculated Hardinage.
"Why not?
"There's nothing to tell, in the first place. There
never will be anything if you breathe a word that can
get around the village.
 How do you know ?  asked the colonel, staring.
 Why, it's plain enough. This place had just been
made ready to open. A breath will scare away the—
the gang. We must be as still as a cat watching for a
mouse. We must surprise them.
 How shall we know when to catch them here ? 
 Leave that to me. I will set a watch on the
place.
"You! the colonel exclaimed in astonishment.
 Yes, I, I have an object. I am willing to watch
122
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
and wait, I am willing to spend time and money,
burst forth Hardinage with passionate intensity, his
hand seeking the breast of his coat, which it clutched
vindictively. "Just leave it all to me!
"Very well. But'don't you think we ought to speak
to the rector—the tomb is his property, you know, and
I believe all this land as well.
 Not a word to the rector. If you utter a syllable
to him the whole thing is ruined.
"Why?
"The old lady, his aunt, is such an infernal gossip,
explained Hardinage.  She gets hold of everything.
We had better keep our own counsel.
"It shall be as you say, assented the colonel.
"Meanwhile, if you get hold of anything let me
know.
 I will notify you at once. And now I shall have to
go over to the village. Which way are you going';' 
 In the same direction, replied the elder gentle-
man; and accordingly they left the cemetery together.
On reaching the central street of the town, the two
gentlemen parted company; Colonel Oppendyke to
transact a business matter, Hardinage to follow a nar-
row street or lane on which were very plain but respec-
table-looking cottages, inhabited mostly by factory
hands. At one of the smallest, poorest, and most illy
kept of these Hardinge paused. A jovial-appearing
man, somewhat beyond middle life, sat on the porch
smoking a black pipe; for though the day was chilly the
sun was warm, and it flooded the little porch with the
peculiar yellow brilliancy of early November.
"Good morning, Andrew, observed Hardinage, com-
ing up the path toward the house.
 Mornin', Mr. Hardinage, said Andrew, removing
his pipe just long enough to enunciate the three words.
In doing this he used his left hand; his right sleeve
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
123
hung empty, and, as he rose to offer his visitor a back-
less wooden chair, he stumped along on one wooden
leg, having lost his own, as well as his arm, at the
Battle of Antietam. He was now living on his pension,
quite alone, for he was an old bachelor.
4'Andrew, "said Mr. Hardinage, sitting down gingerly
on the wooden stool and clasping his hands over the
top of his cane,  you find it hard to make both ends
meet since your pension has been cut down, don't
you?
 Oh, I gets along from fair to middling responded
Andrew carelessly, squinting at his visitor through one
eye, the other being closed up and useless. This was
not the result of the Battle of Antietam, but of a
drunken brawl he had been engaged in before the war.
Andrew was a diplomat; he knew nothing was to be
gained by appealing to the sympathies of Sylvanus
Hardinage—quite the reverse. He therefore smoked
reposedly and tried to assume the air of a man in com-
fortable circumstances while he awaited further devel-
opments.
"Well, Andrew, went on Hardinage impressively,
'' I've got a little job for you.
 Yis, sir, assented the man, who had done odd jobs
at the Hardinage homestead at intervals, and therefore
was not surprised. "More kindling-wood ? 
 No, this is a nice affair, an affair of discretion—a
position of trust, in fact. I want you to remain sober
for two weeks, and keep that eye of yours peeled—
will you do it ? If you do just as I tell you I'll pay you
well; if you don't you won't get,a cent. See?
Andrew nodded and a spark came into his eye
"What is it, cap'n ? 
"You know the old tomb down there in the ceme-
tery—the one with the ivy over it, built in the sidehill?
"Like a book!
124
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"Well, I want it watched.
"What's the matter of it ? queried Andrew.
"That doesn't concern you, replied Hardinage,
testily, the blood mounting to his temples. "What I
want of you is to watch it. I want you to be all eye
and no tongue—you understand ? No gossiping with
the neighbors—do you hear ?
"Bless you, the neighbors won't gossip along of
me; they feels above me, observed Andrew, with a
grim chuckle. "If you want anything done on the
sly, mum's the word. Lord love you, I've skirmished
all over the Southern army disguised in a gray uniform
and brought secret messages to General 
"Very well, I shall depend upon you. I want the
place watched at night.
"If I catch anybody prowling around there, what
shall I do ? Attack him ? Andrew shook his one
fist, for he was a natural fighter and loved contention.
"By no means, he said. "Just come to me quick
as you can.
"In the night ?
"Night or day—any time! Of course you'll have to
get your sleep in the daytime; but what time you're
awake I wish you'd keep your weather eye on the
spot.
"I'll do it, cap'n. Anything else ?
"No. I'll give you twenty-five dollars a week for
watching; if you run up against any game and let me
know in time I'll make it fifty dollars. So do your best.
"You bet I will, said Andrew gleefully.  I'll begin
to-night—no, I'll begin now. There's no time like the
present.
 I want to caution you about one thing. Above all
things, don't be observed.
 I won't. I've got a little job clearing away a spot
of ground that's goin' to be plowed up to lie till spring.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
125
It's got a right smart lot of low underbrush in it, and
it's not far from the cemetery. I can hide myself snug
in the brush, and if anybody should come onto me I'm
safe at work as innocent as an angel.
'' Very well. I rely on you. Hardinage now arose,
and with a nod of adieu walked rapidly in the direc-
tion of his home. Having arrived there, he entered
at once his wife's private sitting-room, where he found
that lady putting the finishing touches to the altar-
cloth she had been embroidering. The most favorable
aspect of this man's nature was his devotion to his
home and his family. Mrs. Hardinage, though pos-
sessing as garrulous a tongue as any of her sex, care-
fully respected her husband's secrets when so re-
quested; so he at once sat down and told of his talk
with Co'lonel Oppendyke and their discovery at the old
tomb.
"I'm afraid it's those Italians ! "his wife exclaimed.
 And so near us, too. Something ought to be done !
 I've set that wooden-legged Andrew to watch the
place. But never you fear; he won't catch any
Italians around that spot. They're more afraid of a
grave than they are of the Devil.
"Well, what do you think ?
A curious light came into Hardinage's cold gray
eyes as they rested on the altar-cloth spread out on his
wife's lap, on which fourteen simpering angels, seven
in a row, faced each other with mathematical pre-
cision.  I don't think at all, he said under his
breath.  I can't make it out. Its incomprehensible
what he could be doing alone at midnight at that
deserted vault that hasn't been opened for a hundred
years !
 He—who ? asked his wife, in a startled tone.
"He who insulted me when I offered a gift; he
who condemned me without a hearing; he whom I
126
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
hate for more reasons than I can give; he whom 1
would give half my fortune to degrade and humiliate,
cried Hardinage in a voice quivering with rage and
passion. Then controlling himself with an effort he
added in a calmer tone, tossing a glittering trinket
into his wife's lap:  He to whom this belongs ! 
 A ring ?  exclaimed Mrs. Hardinage taking it up
and examining it carefully.  It looks familiar. I've
seen it somewhere: a ruby clutched by two hands
as a setting.
'' It's familiar to me, said Hardinage. '' I've noticed
it often. I've seen it while I listened to the Sunday
morning sermon; I've seen it while taking the com-
munion.
Still holding the ring Mrs. Hardinage looked at her
husband, her steelly black eyes taking on a look of
growing intelligence. "Where did you find it ? What
makes you think it is his ? 
 I found it just outside the tomb door, half covered
with fresh mold, where the roots of the young trees
had been torn up. My Heavens ! what prompted him
to enter that place at midnight; to go to the labor and
trouble necessary to effect an entrance ! It was no
child's play to clear away all those vines, the trees and
the accumulation of earth; and he isn't used to such a
kind of employment. Mark my words, he had a tre-
mendous reason; a reason I shall know sooner or
later !
 But after all, interposed his wife,  it is possible
there may be other rings like his. It's unique, I
know, and I now remember peeing him wear one like
it. Still it isn't conclusive evidence.
'' It's strange it should bear his initials if it isn't
his.
"His initials? Mrs. Hardinage fitted a pair of
eyeglasses over her nose and looked in the inside of
that girl from bogota.
127
the ring. There she discerned, plainly traced on the
heavy gold band, the letters:
d. n.
CHAPTER IX.
"somewhere to hide the girl!
All unsuspecting the trap that was set for him and
the strange chain of circumstances that was forming
link by link to bind him, Demetrius awoke on this
same morning with a gladsome sensation of rest
and refreshment; having enjoyed the first sound sleep
that had been vouchsafed to him for almost two weeks.
He awoke with a struggle of memory to remember.
From his window he saw the gray November dawn lying
over the bare hills, the Hudson glimmering in the
valley like a bit of smoked glass, for it was about half
an hour before sunrise; saw the faint blush on the
eastern horizon, and heard the scratching of the elm-
tree upon the eaves shaken by the soft breeze that
springs up at daybreak.
Slowly the events of the past night came back to him,
with that aspect of sober reality that comes with
garish day after the intense excitement of a night; and
with feelings balancing between hope and fear he
groaned,  I was dreaming—I was* mad! 
Still there was a hope—one in a thousand—one in
a million—and it lay in the tomb of his buccaneer an-
cestor. After all, why should not the supposition be
true ? It was the crafty expedient of a miser to first
bring home in safety and then hide the plunder he had
wrested from his victims on the high seas; but, on the
other hand, he had probably gambled away much of the
spoils before he died—perhaps all. Demetrius sighed
128
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
at this latter torturing thought, and resolved that very
night to prove the matter one way or another, and so
put an end to speculation.
At breakfast, his aunt looked at him curiously,
 Why, dear, what's the matter with your hands ? she
asked.
Demetrius looked down at them and smiled involun-
tarily, for they were defaced with scratches and
bhsters. These, in his intense absorption in weightier
matters, had escaped his own notice.
 They look badly, don't they ?  he remarked cheer-
fully.
 How did it occur ? 
"Why, I undertook some landscape gardening.
Then, with another glance, he started and looked con-
cerned, for he noticed for the first time that a ruby
ring he always wore on his little finger, and par-
ticularly valued, it being a gift from the Bishop, was
missing. "Must have lost it while working among
those vines, he thought. Fortunately, Mrs. Harper
was too much excited by the news of the burglary
which she had just come upon in the morning paper, to
question him further in regard to his landscape garden-
in g.
The forenoon was the very perfection of a bright
November day, a dreamy Indian summer. Unable to
concentrate himself upon his sermon, Demetrius set
out at about ten o'clock for a long walk, purposely
avoiding the direction of the cemetery. A subtle
attraction drew him to his usual haunt, when idle—the
site of the memorial chapel, where several workmen
were hewing great blocks of granite. To Mr. Town-
send, who had the matter in immediate charge, the
sum of twenty-five hundred dollars was due this day to
carry on the work. His position, his honor, perhaps
his liberty itself, hung on his ability to meet the obliga-
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
129
tion, and he was practically penniless. The ringing
blows of hammers and the harsh grating of the chisels
in the stone, cut into his brain, as though they dupli-
cated the unyielding hardness of his circumstances.
Standing with his hands in his pockets, lost in ab-
straction, he did not perceive a span of iron grays
prancing proudly down the street drawing an open
victoria in which two ladies were seated. Just as they
reached the spot where he was standing, one of the
grays was attacked with sudden lameness, and the
coachman dismounted to examine the horse's foot,
from which he extracted a small stone. Demetrius
now glanced up and saw Mrs. Maxwell and Virginia,
who nodded gayly to him from the carriage, where he
joined them at once.
"I presume our new chapel will be a handsome
affair, observed Mrs. Maxwell.
"Yes; the architecture is charmingly quaint and
medieval.
 And I hear a fine bust of the dear Bishop is being
done in marble to be placed in the vestibule?
"Quite true. Though I think he wouldn't have
wished it. He was very retiring in his nature, you know,
and disliked everything in the way of ostentation.
"That's why we all worshiped him. And besides,
that profile of his—in marble—why it will be a work
of art in itself worthy of the Pantheon. I suppose
you'll be at the Fair this evening?
 Certainly. What success so far? 
 The best possible. How much did you say was
taken in at your table last night, dear?
This last to Virginia, who was extremely handsome
this morning in a costume of dull, grayish green
with a hat to match, fluffy with curly ostrich
plumes, and who sat on the side of the victoria next
Demetrius. She mentioned a sum which showed this
13D
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
young lady was an excellent saleswoman; then whis-
pered, as her aunt's attention was for a moment turned
to the horses : "What do you think of your great-
grandfather's wife ? 
"She was round and yellow? suggested Deme-
trius.
 And with a cast of countenance resembling the
kings of Spain ?  supplemented Virginia in an excited
undertone. "Ah, I was sure of it. Have you—have
you 
 Not yet, returned the rector cautiously. "But
I spent the best part of three hours last night prepar-
ing the way. He showed his scratched and blistered
hands laughingly. "I shall introduce myself to my
great-grandmamma this afternoon at the fashionable
hour of four.
"Oh !  said Virginia, putting up her lip; adding as
the coachman mounted the box:  You'll tell me as
soon as 
 Immediately.
 It's so romantic, sighed the girl deliciously.  I'm
sure nothing like it has been known since the days of
Captain Kidd. Good-bye. And the carriage whirled
away amid smiling adieux from both ladies.
This little talk inspired Demetrius with fresh cour-
age and also more intense curiosity. At about three
o'clock in the afternoon the mist in the air, which had
followed the promising sunrise, enveloped the atmos-
phere with a smoky haze, deepening into fog. He
considered this a favorable omen, for it hid his move-
ments even more securely than the darkness of night.
It was at about half-past three that the rector
started for his destination, taking a short cut by way
of the rectory garden, which communicated with a
narrow lane leading to the cemetery. He wore his
uncle's cloak, and under its voluminous folds he car-
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
ried a gripsack, a dark lantern, plenty of matches, and
the big iron key, that open sesame to the fortune of a
robber, if all should turn out well.
The fog had deepened and lay thick along the vab
ley, swallowing up the little town and its environment.
Nothing could be more favorable to his purpose. A
few yards distant the figure of the rector was a mere
loose outline of black folds from his head to his feet,
indistinct and shadowy; in short, except from an abso-
lutely face to face view, he was unrecognizable. Walk-
ing hurriedly, and with a preoccupied mind, it was not
until he turned the ponderous key in the lock and
drew, with difficulty, the iron door open on its rusty
hinges, for the second time in a hundred years, that
the rector of St. John's stopped short, smitten with re-
pugnance, on the very brink of his investigation.
For the door was now ajar, and he faced an inky
blackness beside which ordinary darkness seemed like
light; he confronted a silence beside which any ordinary
stillness seemed like sound. If there could be such a
thing as accumulated darkness and silence, it was here.
The vague superstitions and awesome imaginings of a
century had gathered here, as it were, through the in-
fluence of many minds. It might have been half a min-
ute that Demetrius paused in the face of his grim en-
terprise before he entered and pulled the door shut
after him, but that little hesitation was to his fortunes
what the backward look of Lot's wife was to hers; in
each case it was fatal, and in both instances it caused
the individuals concerned to make a lasting imprint in
the annals of history. For in that brief thirty seconds
a man with a wooden leg, who was just leaving the
cemetery, caught sight of the dark shape in the open
door, and, with a hasty glance and a muttered excla-
mation, "Oh, Jiminy! this means twenty-five dollars
extry! stumped away, with all the speed he was capa-
132
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
ble of, in the opposite direction from which he had
started.
Within the low vault, just permitting a tall man to
stand upright, stood Demetrius, holding his lantern in
his hand so that the rays fell around his gloomy re-
treat. But they seemed to struggle with the intense
darkness instead of lighting it up, and the rector re-
mained motionless, trying to penetrate the gloom.
Presently the outlines of the narrow cell accentuated
themselves—the four bare, straight stone walls, the re-
ceptaclc for the dead inclosed in iron gratings, and a
wooden settle. This last not being a customary auxil-
iary to such a place, he reasoned, must have been sent
there by his peculiar ancestor, who had spent so much
time there while living.
Having now become somewhat familiar with his sur-
roundings, he moved toward the iron gratings to ex-
amine the receptacles behind them. As he did so he
stumbled against an object on the floor. Looking
down, he shuddered with dismay, for at his feet, prone
on the damp stones, lay a coffin.
After the first start of surprise the rector felt a thrill
of triumph. His great-grandmother had spoken truly,
for here was indeed the metal casket she had described,
not placed in its proper receptacle, but lying as the
pirate had left it, convenient to his hand. Just
inside the door was the hatchet with which he had
felled the trees. This he had left, fancying it would
be useful in forcing open the grim object that he hoped
contained a secret that would solve his present enigma.
But the instrument was of no avail, though he tried to
use it as a wedge to pry open the lid, marked by a
faint, almost imperceptible, line. The blade of the
tool was too thick for such a wedge, and the deli-
cate line was the only place suggestive of an opening.
The top was smooth, except for a small silver plate, on
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
133
which was, apparently, an inscription, but so black and
tarnished was it that it could not be descried.
Perhaps the inscription contained a solution of the
problem. With this idea Demetrius produced a silk
handkerchief and began to vigorously scour the bit of
tarnished silver.
In this success crowned his efforts, but not in the
way he had imagined; for the bit of silver moved
under his strong pressure. Seeing this he put the
force of his whole strength upon it, and low! a snap,
a jar, and the faint line indicating the opening widened
an inch as soon as he withdrew his hand. He had
blundered upon the secret of the hidden spring; and
seeing this he was inspired with hope and even
exultation, for well he knew human ingenuity would
have taxed itself in no such way as this save to
conceal, as well as to render instantly accessible, a
treasure.
And now that it was ready to his hand he fell back
a moment wiping the perspiration from his forehead,
and taking a long breath of relief as he scanned the
hideous box, now almost entirely robbed of any of
those reverent as well as awesome associations that
hover over a receptacle for the dead. And again
he confidently advanced and had put his hand on the
lid when a sound at the door startled him. He listen-
ed; yes, some one was gently trying to pull the door
open on its rusty hinges, but the efforts were slight
and the big iron framework resisted.
Instantly he was at the entrance anathematizing him-
self for having left the door slightly ajar, and was about
to close and lock it in the face of the intruder, when
a hand was thrust in between the door and the jam —
a white, slender hand with pretty tapering fingers, and
a voice whispered,  Mr. Newcastle, is it you?  The
voice was Virginia Lamar's.
134
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"Yes — give the countersign, laughed Demetrius.
 She was round and yellow! whispered the voice
through the opening.  O, Mr. Newcastle! Is she
round and yellow? she gasped as she fluttered in.
 Don't look so cross because I came. I couldn't help
it. I was raging with curiosity. I was to assist Aunt
Maxwell at a 5 o'clock tea. All at once I found my-
self wrapping myself up in this black mantel and slip-
ping out of the house. I won't stay a minute. Have
you found the treasure? Is there any? Why don't
you speak ?
 I haven't had time yet, said Demetrius.
"Time for what? To speak, or to find the treas-
ure ? Don't keep me in suspense. She sank down
011 the old wooden settle, a pale rose dress and kid
slippers of the same color peeping out from under the
black mantle that enveloped her. At the same mo-
ment she pushed back the hood, and her charming head,
running over with its short, silky black curls, appeared.
 I have only just had time to unlock the casket,
said Demetrius.  I was just about to investigate fur-
ther when you came,
 So glad—I came just at the right moment. Oh,
aren't you awfully curious, Mr. Newcastle ? How calm
you are ! 
 I am not calm, said the rector looking at her dis-
tractedly.
 Then let us go on with your investigations—or,
no, wait a little. Oh, how my heart beats ! Fancy,
if there should be jewels ! Oh ! I never was so happy
in my life.
"We can soon ascertain, said Demetrius, moving
toward the casket.
"Please wait a little—there—there might be bones
and things, suggested the girl, with sudden revulsion of
feeling. "If there are bones in it,"she added, "Ishall
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
135
shriek. I hope there'll be yellow Spanish doubloons
and rubies and diamonds. Did you ever think it would
be so nice to find a treasure ? I'm so glad I came. I
wouldn't have missed it for anything. Why, I may
never have another chance to find a treasure as long I
live. Oh, I hope she's round and yellow. And ris-
ing and throwing off the black mantle, which somewhat
impeded her movements, she advanced toward the
casket—a most distracting picture of a lithe girlish fig-
ure in some clinging pink fabric showing just a glimpse
of a soft, round, white throat.
 Wait a moment, he said, intercepting her.
 Why ? 
"Better let me take a look first.
 No—no. Let's take a look together.
"Very well ! 
"Stop, not quite yet, she gasped as he put his
hand on the lid.
"I'm afraid it will be too much for you, he hinted.
 Not at all. I'm enjoying it.
 Enjoying it ? 
"Yes. Oh how I do love this excitement! What a
delicious suspense! Nothing so romantic ever hap-
pened to me before as to find a treasure.
"Yes, it belongs to you, and you shall inherit your
rightful share. • Only for you I would never have
known of it, murmured Demetrius, a touch of feel-
ing in his voice. But Virginia was determined to make
the most of the romance.
 Only think ! she said, "the weird associations
that cluster round this place. It needs only a trick of
the imagination to see the old buccaneer in his knee-
breeches, red waistcoat, and loose brown locks falling
over his shoulders, keeping watch over his treasure.
She looked toward the opposite side of the tomb
engulfed in darkness, and for an instant Demetrius did
136 THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
see the crouching figure with its brilliant eyes and
mocking smile and features so like his own.
 By your leave, sir, went on Virginia, addressing
the apparition which her fancy had conjured up; and
Demetrius, approaching the box, raised the heavy lid
while Virginia turned the full rays of the dark-lantern
upon its contents.
Heaps of dingy leathern bags; these were what they
saw. Demetrius shook out one, and then they fell
back and looked at each other in silence; for a clink-
ing shower of yellow gleaming coins rattled down in the
leaden box. Then both spectators realized how little
expectation they had really had of the success of their
adventure, for at the sight of such a heap of actual,
shining, glittering wealth their breaths were momen-
tarily taken away.
As for Demetrius, surprise was lost in a great thanks-
giving, too great for speech. It was like a reprieve
from death. He sank forward on his knees beside the
box, one hand across his eyes.  I didn't deserve it—
but O my God ! I thank thee! "he whispered brokenly
at last.
Virginia scarcely noticed this action, for she was on
her knees before the receptacle, examining the contents
of the other bags. Most of the treasure was in coin,
but there was one bag filled with jewels which absorbed
her attention while the rector tried to make a hasty
estimate of the value of the rest. The amount was not
enormous; the old pirate had probably squandered
considerable of the money after his arrival, but
Demetrius in a hasty calculation estimated the gold
pieces to be worth from ten to fifteen thousand dollars.
Of the value of the jewels he had no idea, but appar-
ently they were of great richness and purity. There
were rings, brooches, chains, lockets, and several im-
mense unset diamonds. These threw Virginia into
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
137
an ecstacy of excitement. She examined the quaint
settings one by one, opened the lockets, tried on the
necklaces, and loaded her fingers with rings down to the
second joint. Time flew by with marvelous rapidity;
and when she had been engaged with the pretty
trinkets almost an hour she imagined she had been
there about ten minutes.
"Oh, what a good time I am having!  she exclaimed
naively, gazing rapturously at the collection of gems.
"Aren't they beautiful? Aren't they heavenly? Of
course, she added, checking herself, "they were
stolen from somebody, and I suppose the poor people
were killed too; and, by the way, Mr. Newcastle, it's a
wonder to me you can be so serene when you know you
had such a disreputable great-grandfather! 
"Ah! It's a wonder to me how you can be so
enraptured with stolen goods! Look at the rings on
your fingers.
"Yes, but he wasn't my great-grandfather, you
know. My ancestors were dull creatures' who busied
themselves with commerce. Nothing ever happened
to them. She sighed.
"I see! You are envious of my great-grand-
father!
 Frankly, I am.
"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do, remarked Deme-
trius, cheerfully.
"What ?
"I'll share him with you.
 How can you ? 
Demetrius looked across the casket at her, and his
eyes, always tell-tale, revealed a story so plainly that
Virginia suddenly flung the brilliant baubles back into
the casket, saying: "There's only one woman you can
share him with, and she is not here! 
"'Ah, why not with you! murmured Demetrius,
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
coolly. "It's only a business matter, you know. My
great-grandfather stole the booty; you discovered it.
According to all laws of justice and equity you ought
to be his heir at least equally with me.
But his eyes had told one story and his lips uttered
another. A matter of business! Virginia tore off the
necklaces and threw them back into the casket after
the rings.
"You are going? asked Demetrius, rising as she
moved away.
"Yes.
 You aren't angry, I hope ? 
 Of course not. Why should I be angry ? .
"I don't know, he responded meekly. "It was
something about my great-grandfather, I thought.
Please don't look like that.
 You don't know how I look, it's too dark, pouted
Virginia.
 But I do. Your eyes light up your face like bon-
fires. Don't be vexed with my great-grandfather,
Miss Virginia; he was a well-meaning man, though he
had his eccentricities.
 I suppose, said Virginia, relenting, "that he had
moods when nothing could cheer him up but to make
a ship's crew and passengers walk the plank.
 Quite so. We all have our little faults!
Then they gave way to a hearty fit of laughter, foi
they were both, in the main, in good spirits and in a
frame of mind to be amused with trifles. As Virginia
moved toward the door Demetrius preceded her to
open it. It stood already slightly ajar, and looking
through the narrow aperture Newcastle paused, his
hand -qn the jamb.
"Please open the door, said Virginia;  I want to
get out of this deadly place. I'm cold. Then catch-
ing sight of his face she asked, "What's the matter?
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
139
"A lot of people crossing the cemetery, he whis-
pered, "Mr. Townsend, Colonel Oppendyke, Mr.
Marks the sheriff and his son, Andrew Jenkins, and—
and, yes, Hardinage.
The last name was pronounced with emphasis.
For at the sight of his enemy a sudden fear had crossed
Demetrius's mind; not for himself, but for Virginia;
and inspired by this, he, acting on impulse, did the one
thing th^it placed the seal of condemnation upon them
both—he closed and locked the door.
"Why did you do that ? asked Virginia.
 Better wait—let them get by, breathed Newcastle
softly. "Don't speak.
So they stood silently in the darkness; for the lan-
tern only gave light from one side, and that side was
turned from them. The rest of the place was buried
in gloom. And the darkness was awful and the silence
more dreadful than sounds of alarm. The laughter
died away on Virginia's lips; her breath came un-
evenly. All at once a terror of the spot wherein she
Stood penetrated her veins like a chill. She felt caught
and held, like a rat in a trap. Then a hand groped
through the gloom, touched hers and clasped it; and
she clung to it and felt comforted.
And now came sounds of tramping feet nearer and
nearer. They did not pass, they walked up to the
tomb; there was a loud battering on the big iron
door; and a voice, that of Marks the sheriff,
shouted,  Open, in the name of the law!
"OGod! sighed the rector under his breath, and
the words were a prayer. His clasp on Virginia's hand
tightened; he looked around their gloomy prison for a
place wherein to hide her; for he now saw that.their
situation was frightful. Virginia did not realize -ttiis,
but was awed by his manner and the eyrieness of the
place, so while, with steps as light as a cat's, he glided
I40
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
with the lantern round the little cell examining every
nook and cranny, she stood like a statue at the door,
against which blows were now repeatedly ringing,
while angry voices demanded entrance.
Somewhere to hide the girl! Somewhere to hide her
where that man with the vindictive eyes and the cruel
jaw should not find her and wreak a cowardly ven-
geance upon him through her. Somewhere—any-
where! but there was no place. The tomb was but a
stone box — stone floor, stone ceiling, stone walls;
even the usual receptacles for caskets were shielded only
with iron gratings. Yet she must not be found there.
Every moment of silence and delay increased the
embarrassment of the situation. If he had but left
the door unlocked and open, as it had been all during
their interview—but he had closed it and turned the
key—oh, fatal impulse!—and in so doing had branded
them both with the semblance of guilt forever!
At this supreme moment of suspense Demetrius's
foot struck the open box glittering with money and
jewels. It was deep, roomy, commodious. In a mo-
ment he was by Virginia's side, drawing her softly
toward it.  Dear, get into the casket!  he whispered,
close to her ear.
But here he had counted Without his host.  Never!
said the girl obstinately.
"Why not? Speak low. But this caution was
rather unnecessary, and the continued blows on the
door drowned all other sound.
 I don't want to. Why should I ? 
 Don't question now. Don't be alarmed. I'll see
that you have air, and will remain near you. Come! 
 I shall do nothing of the kind. I'm not afraid to
face them all! 
 Virginia, obey me! 
 I! QbzyyouV'
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
141
Demetrius made no answer; there was a momen-
tary struggle of wills. Then Virginia, with a sudden
movement, stepped into the casket, and, wrapping her
pink drapery around her, stretched herself out in it
while Mr. Newcastle piled up a couple of bags of coin
for her head to rest on. Then with a sense of frightful
isolation the heavy metal lid closed down upon her, as
though it had shut out forever all light, all sound, all
hope, all activity of the living world.
The pirate's casket was no longer a deception and a
lie; for it had a human occupant!
CHAPTER X.
mr. hardin age watches!
While this was occurring within the pirate's tomb
a little consultation was being held without be-
tween the sheriff, Col. Oppendyke, and Mr. Town-
send, Andrew Jenkins stumping about on his wooden
leg, full of gleeful excitement, muttering that he
hadn't felt so good since the war. Hardinage stood in
silent reflection, regarding the blank-looking iron door.
Then his furtive eyes fell on the ground, which,
newly disturbed, was a mass of fresh, half-frozen
mold, and there, close beside his own foot was some-
thing that caused him to start and stand like one
petrified, staring and astonished; for he saw the deli-
cate imprint of a dainty little French boot, its toe to-
ward the iron door.
 The reason thought this modern Iago, quivering
with the fierce joy of revenge. "This—this is the
reason!
But who was the wearer of this tiny, lovely little
specimen of woman's footgear? Hardinage could not
142
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
even guess. He only knew the rector had a large con-
gregation, the greater portion of which was women, as
is always the case in all churches, and that all adored
the rector, young and old. But still, to do Hardinage
justice, up to that moment such a contretemps as this
had not entered his mind. But here it was, this open
testimony to the fact that the nephew of the Bishop
had effected an entrance to this long-closed receptacle
of the dead for a purpose which, when revealed, would
damn him forever in his sacred calling.
Hardinage did not utter his suspicions aloud. He
preferred to let the matter take its regular course and
be as much surprised as any of them at the result of
their investigations.
"Do you think your man is reliable? asked Col.
Oppendyke to Hardinage, with a glance at the gleeful
Andrew, who was hopping around the place like a cheer-
ful frog.  He might have been deceived in the fog.
There isn't a sound.
"Ah! cried Hardinage, and they all started, for
there was the sound just then of a key grating in
a rusty lock. Every man grasped his firearm and
all grouped about the door in a body. It swung
back with difficulty. Framed in the black aperture,
a lantern in one hand lighting up his fine, strong face
and beautiful, luminous eyes, stood the rector of St.
John's.
The shock upon all but one of the spectators was
such that they fell back speechless. Mr. Townsend
was the first to break the silence.  Bless my soul! It
can't be possible!  he exclaimed.
"What can I do for you, gentlemen ? asked De-
metrius, not without a sense of the humorous side of
the situation.
 So it was you all the time ?  went on Mr. Town-
send'. "We heard the tomb was infested by a band of
That girl from Bogota.
T43
thieves. I didn't know the place was ever visited by
any of your family. Well, well ! 
"I'll be blessed if that ain't one on me, groaned
Andrew, who attended a mission of St. John's par-
ish, and thought the rector, like the king, could do no
wrong. But Col. Oppendyke, who had himself watched
the silent midnight marauder at work removing ob-
stacles to an entrance to this retreat, was pale and
looked slightly worried. Indeed, nearly all the men
stood embarrassed, staring at the young man as he
stood framed in the open doorway, the darkness beyond
forming a fine background for his tall, sinewy figure
itnd spirituelle face, in the yellow flame of the lantern,
one hand resting on the jamb above his head. Only
two men of the group were quiet and composed.
One was Hardinage and the other was Demetrius New-
castle.
"Well, Mr. Newcastle, observed Col. Oppendyke,
with a nervous attempt at jocularity,  since you don't
ask us in I suppose we may as well go away.
Hardinage stepped forward. "I hope Mr. New-
castle won't be so inhospitable, he said. "I've heard
no end about this old tomb, and I must confess to a
curiosity to explore the place. Wouldn't you like to go
inside? he said, turning to Col. Oppendyke, without
waiting for a reply from Newcastle.
 I would, indeed, replied that gentleman. "You
see, he added to Demetrius,  this place in a local
way is really historic. Whenever a visitor comes to
town we point out the spot and tell the tale with or
without embellishments, according to the credulity of
the listener. I suppose the same interest in it as a
thing of antiquity prompted you to open it, eh? Going
to make repairs?
"No, said Demetrius, "it's in very good condi-
tion. Then seeing the thing was inevitable he stood
144
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
aside, and added heartily, "Step in and see for your-
self.
Col. Oppendyke immediately accepted the invitation,
followed by his comrades. When they were all inside,
the little stone box was crowded. Hardinage came in
fast, and as he glared around the little retreat his face
was first surprised and then enraged. The little
footprint, then, had belonged to some passer-by? No,
there was no returning step on the soft ground. Under
pretence of wishing to examine the tomb he took out a
pocket lantern, lit it, and began to make a minute
search of the place, which was easy. Only the four
grim walls, only the flat-stone ceiling, only the cold
stone floor—no niche or cranny, no cupboards or clos-
ets, to hide in. Baffled but not beaten he stood irreso-
lute. Mr. Newcastle, his hands in his pockets, was
talking easily with the men, giving two or three short
anecdotes about the original building of the tomb. His
ease, his grace, his perfect sang froid, maddened his
enemy.
"How clever! "he thought. "He's taking their
minds back a hundred years, so they won't think of the
present. He's too cool, by heaven; it's put on.
Just then he stumbled against the leaden casket, re-
coiled with a shudder, and grew ill for a moment at the
sudden proximity of this reminder of mortality; for
hitherto the crowd had obscured it from his sight, and,
indeed, his investigations had been confined principally
to the walls and ceiling, and it had not occurred to
him to examine the floor.
A great, powerful, muscular man was Hardinage,
ordinarily with strong nerves and few superstitions.
How was it then that the sight of a coffin could so un-
nerve him ? It was one of those unaccountable things
that are constantly happening. A subte intuition
warned him from the place; a cold perspiration beaded
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
his forehead; he struggled with the whim, mastered
it in a moment, and idly bent to examine the grewsome
object, to teach himself better courage. To his sur-
prise the lid was not quite closed. It was, in fact,
shut down on a good-sized pebble, to admit air.
And this was not all. A tiny speck of something
white projected from the aperture—a mere speck, un-
noticed by any one else. Surreptitiously he caught at
the shred between his thumb and finger.  Ah!  he
whispered with a quick breath, for it was a dainty
bit of embroidery. That lace or linen had never
lain there a hundred years and retained that snowy
whiteness!
Just then Mr. Townsend turned and saw the object
that was interesting Hardinage. "Bless my soul! a
coffin, as I live, on the floor, he remarked.
"Dear me, I wish there was more light, observed
Colonel Oppendyke. "I suppose the remains of your
great-grandfather repose here, Mr. Newcastle? and
he indicated the casket with his cane.
 It is so reported, answered Demetrius.
 I see the coffin has been opened, announced
Hardinage.  Did you know it ? 
 Certainly, said the rector, with an absolutely ex-
pressionless face lit up by the glare of the lantern he
still carried.
Hardinage now felt that feline pleasure that a cat
has in tormenting a mouse, for he knew that under that
graceful serenity the man before him was suffering
torture. He resolved to prolong it.
 Nothing there, I suppose, but a heap of fine dust.
But the casket is a quaint affair. I should like to ex-
amine it, merely as a piece of workmanship of a
hundred years ago. Mr. Townsend, pray wait. Mr.
Newcastle is kindly going to show us his great-grand-
father's coffin.
146
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
Demetrius looked his enemy in the eye. The an-
tagonism between them suddenly assumed definite
shape, and they both mentally prepared for combat like
gladiators in the arena. The rector read suspicious
triumph in his opponent's expression; but his own face
was so well controlled that Hardinage discerned no-
thing.
 You assume too much, he said.  I beg you to
remember that this is a tomb and not a museum. It is
also my private property, and I shall not expose the
remains of my ancestors to vulgar curiosity.
Hardinage flushed, grew irritated, and lost his
self-possession. "I might return the compliment
and say that you assume too much, he raged in a loud,
angry voice. "When a clergyman frequents such a
place as this at dead of cold autumn nights, and locks
himself in on afternoons, to commune with ancestors
that have been dead a hundred years, he puts a pre-
mium on credulity. It becomes the duty of his parish-
ioners to demand an explanation. Gentlemen, I de-
mand an explanation; I demand the reason for Mr.
Newcastle's visit to this place, and, more than all, I
insist upon knowing the contents of that coffin! 
He walked toward the object with a bullying air.
Though not a tall man, he was muscular and of great
strength. Before he could open the casket Demetrius
with a dexterous movement of the foot and hand sent
him sprawling on the floor. Instantly he was on his
feet, cursing and advancing—not toward his enemy,
but toward the leaden casket.
"Touch that coffin and you're a dead man. And
as he spoke Demetrius caught up the hatchet which
still lay on the floor and upraised it with such a tone
and such an expression that none who beheld him
doubted that had Hardinage advanced a step farther
it would have descended upon his head. But at that
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
147
instant the dazed beholders, roused into action, seized
both combatants.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen, cried Mr. Townsend, up-
raising his hand between them, while Colonel Oppen-
dyke and the sheriff caught Demetrius and Hardinage.
"What does this mean? Mr. Newcastle, remember
your sacred calling, your responsibility. Mr. Hardinage,
pray come away. Shame on you all! You are acting
childishly. What is it all about, anyway ? What is it
all about ?
"You'll know, sooner or later, burst forth Har-
dinage, struggling with the sheriff. "Bear witness,
gentlemen, all of you—if I live until to-morrow morn-
ing—till to-morrow morning, I say, all the town shall
ring with his infamy! 
So struggling and raging, too much the victim of
his uncontrollable wrath to push to advantage his own
suspicions, but still bent on vengeance, Sylvanus Har-
dinage was half dragged, half persuaded, from the
tomb; the rector, whose blood was up, struggling
after him as far as the door, where, meeting Mr.
Townsend's reproachful and shocked eyes, he suddenly
drooped his head in shame and cast down the hatchet,
which fell just outside the door.
Mr. Townsend lingered to put a hand on the young
man's arm. "Demetrius, he said, "I am pained.
What does this mean? What is it all about? Have
you forgotten your position among us—have you for-
gotten 
"No, murmured the rector, desperately, "I have
forgotten nothing—I know how my conduct appears to
you. But just now—I can say nothing—only to beg
you 
 Yes? queried the old gentleman, eagerly.
"To leave me—to go at once, he spoke with in-
creasing agitation.
148
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"Certainly, I will go—only one word, said Mr.
Townsend with equal perturbation. "You aren't waiting
to see Hardinage again? 
Demetrius threw up his hands with a gesture of dis-
sent.
"Very well; take the advice of one who is old
enough to be your father, and don't meet that man
again till you're both cool.
With this Mr. Townsend walked hastily away through
the fine mist that was filling the air like steam and
presently came up with the rest of the party,
who were waiting for Hardinage. That gentle-
man had seated himself on a rock under a big pine
tree that somewhat shielded him from the fine rain,
and kept his seat with all the firm solidity of a granite
monument, notwithstanding the polite entreaties of
Colonel Oppendyke that he should not expose himself
to the inclemency of the weather by remaining. The
sheriff and his son strolled on, but Andrew, a lively
curiosity and excitement in every line of his rugged
face, hopped about on his wooden leg and waited for
further developments.
"Ah, panted Mr. Townsend as he came up, "are
you waiting for me? 
 No, waiting for Mr. Newcastle, said Hardinage,
doggedly but calmly. He had passed the stage of ex-
citement and was now quite cool, but obstinate and
sullen. He was by nature a man of extremes—a man
of quick temper and great excitability on the one
hand, and abnormal caution on the other. Now that
he was composed he had swung round to the opposite
side of his nature, and so far as his suspicions were
concerned his mouth was shut. He would prove them
to be correct before he committed himself by men-
tioning them. The rector was a very idol among his
people. An unjustifiable charge against him, espe-
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
149
cially from Hardinage, who was not liked over-well in
the community in his palmiest days, would be social
suicide in that town. He would be absolutely sure;
and to accomplish this he had sat down in full view of
the tomb, a few rods away, he himself being partially
screened by the pines and some undergrowth. Yet any
one leaving the cemetery would probably pass along
the path within a few yards of him. There was a
grassy lane now fenced up and little used, by which
Demetrius had reached the place, the path toward
which passed even nearer Hardinage's place of retreat
than the other.
 Let me advise you not to remain, urged Mr.
Townsend, trouble in his voice.
"It's a bad night to be out, observed Colonel
Oppendyke, twirling his cane awkwardly; for the early
November dusk was deepening.  It's beginning to
rain, and the dampness cuts one to the bone like a
knife. You'll catch your death of rheumatism.
 I'll catch it then, said Hardinage stubbornly.
Mr. Townsend and Colonel Oppendyke looked at
one another, anxiously. Andrew, who had been on
the watch all day, and was beginning to feel chilled
and tired, concluded nothing more of importance
was going to happen, and limped away home. A
northeast wind came rustling through the trees.
"Very well, said the colonel, with a shrug. "I
don't intend to die any younger than I can help, so I
shall go home.
"And I also, "said Mr. Townsend, who was delicate,
and was already beginning to sneeze. When the
paroxysm was over, the simple old gentleman turned
back to remark: "Mr. Hardinage, my good mother
used to say that if one would stop and count fifty
when one was angry, there would be fewer quarrels.
"Very well, growled Hardinage, taking out his
150 THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
watch—a gaudy affair set with diamonds—I'll sit here
and count fifty until the rector comes along. And
with the open timepiece in his hand, he sat watching
the little vault through the gathering gloom, with a
hard smile. Sooner or later its occupants must
emerge; they must pass him on their way out.
He looked at his watch again; it was seven minutes
to five. Time passed slowly; he watched the minute-
hand speeding round and round. A minute seemed a
long time, yet how swiftly the little pointer flew from
mark to mark, each tick measuring the departure,
each tick the arrival, of some human being from or to
the world. Could it be possible that some one died
each time he heard the slight metallic sound ? Death
was a subject that Hardinage did not often think
upon. He was so strong, so full of life and muscular
activity, that twenty or thirty years from now would
be time enough to consider it in his own case. It was
a trifle singular that it should present itself just now,
when his mind was occupied so exclusively by another
question.
The twilight deepened; a moaning wind sobbed in
the firs. Would the rector never appear with—his com-
panion? Yes, ah, yes! there was a figure at the door
—but no; it was only Pietro Giovanni, an evil-faced
Italian, who had probably come from the barroom on
the other side of the town and was on his way home.
He slouched along with his head down, when suddenly
he swerved from the path, went up to the Newcastle
vault, stooped and picked up something. It was the
hatchet that the rector had flung down just outside the
door when Mr. Townsend had reproached him. Hardin-
age yawned and looked again at his watch. It was then
just five o'clock.
Events which one regards as of the greatest import-
ance seldom meet the expectation which they inspire;
that girl from bogota.
while circumstances apparently of little note bring
tremendous results. The hollow road of Ohain de-
feated Napoleon; the cackling of geese saved Rome.
Hardinage watched for the appearance of the rector
with anxious impatience; but he observed the Italian
purloin the hatchet without interest or speculation.
CHAPTER XI.
in the tomb of the buccaneer.
Meanwhile, after having locked the door to insure
immunity from further intrusion, Demetrius hastened
to release Virginia from her narrow prison.
"Poor child! what a frightful ordeal for her, he
thought, as he knelt before the casket, essaying to
raise the lid. He never forgot the sensation of horror
he experienced when he discovered that the great
leaden cover was closed tight and locked! ■ How long
air had thus been excluded from her he had no means
of knowing.
He never remembered how he opened the weird re-
ceptacle; the first he knew he was gazing on a still
face, perfectly colorless, with a pained expression on
it, the hands clenched just at the throat. Like
one in a delirium, he fell to chafing her wrists
and calling her name in an agony of grief and self-
reproach. And with the first gasp of returning con-
sciousness he trembled like a frightened child with the
reaction of joy and relief, while something blurred his
vision, and the yellow lantern light swam in a sea of
mist.
"She shall not find herself here, he thought, and,
taking her.in his arms, he carried her to the wooder
settle, where he wrapped his great cloak about her and
152
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
whispered soothingly to her, so that she should not be
frightened at the strangeness of her surroundings.
"Don't be afraid, it is I, Demetrius. Just sit still
a minute till you get rested and I'll take you right home
in this big cloak.
Virginia was now taking the long breaths of return-
ing life, so tremulous they were almost sobs.
 I thought you were gone—I thought I was dead,
she whispered.  The lid shut down—I heard it lock
—I couldn't move. She shuddered.
 Don't think of it. You are safe now. How did it
happen—the lid getting shut down ? 
 I did it myself, something hurt my head so and I
couldn't move to see what it was. Just as the men
went out I pushed hard on the cover—I couldn't stand
it any longer; but it was so heavy I couldn't lift it—
it slipped back in spite of me, and I heard that awful
snap as the spring caught in the lock. She shuddered
at the recollection of that dreadful moment, and invol-
untarily the arm that supported her held her tight and
her forehead touched his cheek.
She forgot to chide him, for the act revealed
a strange thing. There was a moisture on his face—
tears that were not her own. Tears from this cold,
quiet, undemonstrative man! Tears for her when he
had thought her dead! What had prompted them?
Not fear, but love; she knew it by the defiant embrace
in which he held her, by the quick irregular breathing,
by the throbbing of his heart. And then one great,
triumphant thrill of happiness swept through her—the
joy that comes to a woman who has secretly given her
love unasked, when she finds at last that it is recipro-
cated. For a few seconds she gave herself up to the
satisfaction of it, then made an effort to escape.  I am
better now—I can sit up, she murmured.
"Just five minutes of happiness, whispered New-
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
JS3
castle in an unsteady voice. ''I thought I had lost
you forever, and I haven't quite got used to having
you back again. Just five minutes of—heaven! 
"Take it, then, said Virginia, "although it is no
compliment to your fiancee.
"It is no compliment and, at the same time, no
wrong, returned Demetrius.  I have never told you
of the particulars of my engagement. There was never
any real affection between my cousin and myself, though
we have that mutual regard and sympathy often exist-
ing between blood relations two or three times re-
moved. She is a rigid churchwoman, and has always
wished to join some order, but her parents objected so
strenuously that she gave it up. Next best was to
marry a man of my profession, which would open un-
limited opportunities for religious work. For my part,
I did and do admire her immensely; a woman of high
ideals and lovely character, I thought myself blessed
indeed to have such a beautiful comrade and helpmeet.
I knew it was not a love of sentiment on either side,
and for this I was additionally thankful. I was not
only content, but thought myself singularly fortunate,
until—until you Came! Are you listening, Virginia? 
"I hear you, murmured Virginia trembling.
'' When you came, he went on, '' it was as though I
were metamorphosed into another self, having new
ambitions, new needs. I want to tell you how I've al-
ways felt toward you from the first. How can I de-
scribe it—just as if you'd belonged to me, just as if
you'd always been mine, just as if I'd found you after
long years of lonesome absence, just as if we had been
two travelers separated by accident, searching for each
other through all the indifference, coldness, and misun-
derstandings of the world; just as if we had met at last
after the long, long absence. Then I knew a marriage
of convenience would never satisfy me. Virginia! do
154
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
you remember the night we first met ? As I came in out
of the cold dark night you were like a burst of sunshine
in your yellow dress, your white arms thrown above
your head—yes, but I fought it; fought you in my
work, in my pulpit, in my dreams, in my prayers.
That's why I was so stern with you—often cross, I
fancy; but I couldn't help having you near me some-
times, so I interested you in the Bishop's memoirs.
You were always in my mind; you always will be.
What is my duty toward the woman I am to marry in
three months? Is it to tell her the whole truth and let
her choose ?
"Ah, she may choose you, objected Virginia.
 I don't think so, said the rector, hopefully.  Do
you know, there's been something strange about her
correspondence lately? If it were anyone but Eleanor
Bruce, I should think she'd met some one that she
liked better than myself. But that's out of the
question with her. Still I fancy time and absence
have changed her feelings concerning the ques-
tion of marriage. He paused a moment, then asked
quietly,  Do you think it would change yours, Vir-
ginia? 
"It would probably depend upon who my fiance
was, she responded.
 Supposing it were Demetrius Newcastle? 
 I shall never forget you, she answered, unevenly
adding, "I am going away to-morrow.
"Where? 
"To South America—Bogota.
 Virginia! 
"Yes. Papa wrote to me, and I only got the letter
this noon. Mr. and Mrs. Derstrang sail to-morrow
noon, and Asunta and I must reach New York on an
early train in order to join them and have their cha-
peronage down.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
155
"So soon! exclaimed Demetrius, thoughtfully.
"Why, then this is our good-by—unless I may ac-
company you down to the ship and see you off.
"Better not—people would comment so.
"Very well. It will be au revoir, not farewell, will
it not, Virginia ? I may write you—no, your father,
in a couple of months from now ?
"Yes.
"Thanks—thanks! He bent his face to hers, but
she put up her hands.  Not now—wait until you're
free. I couldn't bear it, she cried jealously, "to feel
that you are' not all mine—that any one has a prior
claim.
"Well, I won't, then. But give me some token in
words. Repeat after me: Demetrius, I love you.
The atmosphere of the eyrie old place echoed with
the old legend for the first time in its solemn history:
 ' Demetrius, I love you!' 
"With all my heart.
 'With all my heart!' 
"With all my soul.
 ' With all my soul!' 
"With all my might.
 ' With all my might ! ' 
 And with all my strength.
 'And with all my strength ! 
After a pause she added:  But you see 
"What?
 That's the way you teach people to love God! 
 Exactly. That's the way I want you to love me.
Do you know, he continued, "there are awful mo-
ments when the temptation comes to me to think that
the Almighty is simply a great Ideal of what we want to
be and want to have ? And of the power the growth
of successive ages will develop in the human race ? 
"Ah me! your awful moments are my normal con-
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
dition, said Virginia. "But don't talk of theology.
We can save that to fall back upon when there isn't
anything else.
That point being settled there were dozens of ques-
tions to be asked about the voyage and journey and her
life for the next few months in the almost unknown
country to which she was going. Virginia on this sub-
ject was perfectly at home; she described the great
copper-mine estate where her parents lived and in
which they were financially interested; told of the
great enterprise in connection with it, which her father
hoped to make a tremendous success, aided by Euro-
pean capital; and lingered on the perfect climate, where
the well-behaved thermometer never forgot itself so far
as to get higher than seventy, because of the great alti-
tude, and never dared to drop below seventy, because
it was so near t! e Equator.
"Why, you're as good as a guidebook, said De-
metrius, teasingly.
"Thanks, awfully! As good as a guidebook! Did
you ever come across any enthusiasm in a guidebook?
Now I can tell a good story. I can exaggerate like
Ananias.
"Ananias ? Demetrius burst out laughing.  Why
he lied the other way, you know. He made it less than
it was.
"Did he? Then I'm afraid he'd never have made a
success at booming anew country, as papa tells about.
Ah, listen! What o'clock is that?
The far-away strokes of the town clock came faintly
to their ears and they counted under their breath.
 Six o'clock, cried the rector, starting guiltily.  I
never meant to keep you here all this time. This is
outrageous. I can't forgive myself. He sighed as
he draped her cloak over her, preparatory to starting,
and added: "Ah, if we were together alwavs where
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
*57
would our lives go to? We'd never know what became
of them.
"Aren't you going to take the money? asked Vir-
ginia, as they moved toward the door.
"Oh, yes, the money. He paused and looked back.
 The money to pay my gambling debt.
 Gambling debt! This from Miss Lamar in an in-
describable tone.
"Yes, my gambling debt, went on the rector, dog-
gedly. "You ought to know it, Virginia. It would
not be right to keep it from you. I have betrayed my
trust to the church and spent its money. Only for the
gold in yonder coffin I would have been ruined.
 You! you! exclaimed the girl, and then went into a
paroxysm of laughter.  Oh, oh! If it had been any
one but you.
Demetrius stood looking at her in a sort of petrified
astonishment.  You are amused ? 
"Immensely! I can't get over it. Have you told
Miss Bruce?
 No. I think it will be a good thing to write her
about it, observed Demetrius, with scheming inten-
tion.
"By no means—don't! Promise me you won't tell
her.
"Why not?
"Because she'd want to reform you. Oh, I know
that type of a girl like a book. She always wants to
reform somebody, and marry him to do it.
"Well, then, I won't. But you do mystify me. I
feared you would distrust me if I told you.
"Not at all. When papa is out of business he nearly
always gambles a little—to keep his hand in, he says.
"Ah! then you will be merciful, I know. I shall
leave my reform to you.
"Oh, I couldn't reform anybody, said Virginia,
THAT GIRL r:<OM BOGOTA.
taking a couple of dance steps.  I want people to do
just as they like. I want to be happy, I want to be
amused, and I want everybody to be happy and amused
in their own way. I am a sort of heathen, Demetrius;
remember this before you go any further.
"Almost thou persuadest me to be a heathen,
whispered the rector of St. John's.
He took his gripsack, put in it the contents of the
chamois bags, and then they left the tomb. It was
quite dark and the air had grown frosty.
"Shall we return by the lane or the highway?
asked the rector.
"The lane, by all means. I look so funny in this
cloak, and you, plodding along with that satchel—we
might be a country couple coming into town to go to
the circus. Virginia laughed again; her merriment
was contagious, and Demetrius began to feel as if life
were going to be one long, delightful comedy.
 This is the way we shall look when I become an
itinerant missionary in the far West, he observed.
"Delightful! You do draw such lovely pictures of
our future. Yes, you can hold meetings Sundays in
the little schoolhouse, you know, and I will give song-
and-dance entertainments on week nights to raise
money to build a nice little church with uncomfortable
seats and a pretty little steeple. Tell me more.
"I don't believe you ever have a serious moment,''
laughed Demetrius.
"I don't. I never mean to have. A—oh! I just
stepped on a toad. What a dreadful sensation! Very
well; if his toadship will get in the way he mustn't
complain if he's trodden on, must he ?
"The toads are safe and comfortable in their winter
quarters long before this.
"Ah! A snake, then? 
 The snakes have gone, too.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
159
 I am sure it was a snake, said Virginia, shudder-
ing.
"We will see, just for curiosity, said Demetrius.
He went back a few paces, struck a match and bent
down close to the ground.
 What is it?  asked Virginia, coming toward him.
The rector hastily extinguished the match, but by
its expiring flame Virginia caught a glimpse of the
strangest expression she had ever seen on a human
countenance.
"Come, let us get home, he said scarce above a
whisper, rising and seizing her arm.
"What is the matter? Why are you so strange?
she demanded as he hurried her on.  What was it you
saw? 
 It was a snake.
Virginia was silenced, but not satisfied. She could
hardly keep up with her companion's long swinging
strides, and when they came to the stile he swung her
over the steps as though she had been a child. It was
only when they had entered the garden-gate and were
fairly inside the Maxwell grounds that they paused for
breath. The mansion, gleaming with lights, shone
through the trees.
 Aunt Maxwell gives a dinner-party to-night—I had
forgotten all about it, exclaimed Virginia. ' You
will come, won't you? I am sure there's time yet,
and I know you are invited.
 I don't know—I can't tell, responded Demetrius,
distractedly. "I've got an important errand to attend
to, dearest. I must go at once. Write me by the first
steamer, won't you ? 
 Yes, and you ? 
"You shall hear from me at once. Nothing shall
separate us now, neither time nor distance, nor things
present nor things to come. You will remember this ? 
l6o THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
 I shall remember everything. It seems as if there
was nobody in the universe but you. Oh, why do I say
these things ? But think of me as Desdemona begged
her lord to think of her—that I am as likely to be true
as those who have more cunning to be strange.
 Don't fear. I love you to be as you are.
A figure was now discerned approaching them from
out of the trees. ' It is Asunta, whispered the girl
"Good night—good night—I will not say good-by.
 Let it be an revoir, said Demetrius. A clasp of
hand—a quick, passionate embrace—and he was gone.
 Imprudent one! said Senora Ysquibel, seizing Vir-
ginia by the arm. "Where have you been? I've told
nine lies for you since lunch.
"A thousand thanks! You'll be rewarded here-
after.
"Your aunt was ready to scour the woods and drag
the river. She isn't used to your ways. And you
going about for hours in this climate, fit only for polar
bears '
"Don't be cross, Asunta. 'Help me get to my
room without being seen.
 Come up the back stairs; they're dimly lighted.
The servants are all employed below.
So the two crept cautiously up the narrow, winding
stairs and slipped unperceived into Virginia's apart-
ments. Once within and the door locked, a reaction
from the prolonged excitement of the afternoon over-
came the girl. She walked uncertainly toward a divan,
wavered and sank down to the floor just beside it, inert
and motionless.
Early the following morning Asunta and Virginia
boarded a train, which would reach New York in ample
time for them to catch the steamer.
THAT girl from bogota.
CHAPTER XII.
"i WAS ALONE.
At the garden gate leading from the Maxwell
grounds into the lane stood the rector of St. John's
trying to bring order out of the chaos of his mind,
which seemed a tumult of startling images. One
picture, however, stood out plainly in his mental
vision; it was the object he had seen in the cemetery,
the thing Virginia had trodden on and which had
given her,instinctively, that shudder of alarm; the object
which, in all its sickening horror, now called him to
immediate action. For the thing he had seen by the
flicker of the match was a human hand inert and nerve-
less, lying in the path with the palm upward; he saw
it still—the broad, firm, plump, masculine hand, the
fingers curled slightly inward; he also saw the figure
to which it belonged, in a brief glimpse, with face
turned half away, battered beyond recognition.
Who the murdered man was he knew not; he only
felt the awfulness of the tragedy as it concerned a fel-
low human being. To inform the authorities, that was
of course the first step to be taken; to reach the police
station, his nearest course, from the Maxwell grounds,
was to go past the rectory. Here he would stop and
leave the bag of treasure before proceeding further.
It was a little less than half a mile to the rectory,
and it was seven o'clock when he arrived there.
Hastily depositing the bag of coin in a cupboard in his
study, he locked the door and put the key in his
pocket, just as his aunt entered.
 How late you are! she remarked. "Mr. Town-
send called here an hour ago inquiring for you, and
seemed rather disturbed tafind you had not returned;
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA,
and Mrs. Hardinage has just driven up in her carriage
to see you, and is waiting for you in the reception-
room.
"Mrs. Hardinage! exclaimed Demetrius in some
surprise; for that lady was not a frequent caller at the
rectory.
"Yes. She says her husband had an engagement to
go out to dinner with her at six o'clock; that he has
not yet returned; and that as she was informed you had
probably seen him the last of any one, she has called
to ascertain if you know where he is! 
 I haven't seen him for a couple of hours. As he
spoke Demetrius crossed the hall and entered the re-
ception-room, where a tall, showily dressed lady rose to
meet him.
"Have you seen my husband, Mr. Newcastle ? she
inquired. "He should have been home two hours
ago, and he is so universally punctual that I am wor-
ried about him.
"I haven't seen him since shortly before five o'clock.
He was then in company with Col. Oppendyke and Mr.
Townsend. Then suddenly an awful suspicion com-
ing into his mind he started and averted his eyes from
hers, adding agitatedly: "I'll do anything I can,
Mrs. Hardinage, to help you find him. Pray remain
here; I will return soon.
"No! I will go with you, said Mrs. Hardinage.
 Don't put me off with subterfuges, Mr. Newcastle.
You know—at least you guess—where he is. I see it in
your face. Don't hide anything from me. You were
not friends. She looked hastily around and lowered
her voice. "Something has happened—I knew it the
moment I saw your face! Col. Oppendyke hinted at it.
He said my husband was waiting for you. You were
both angry. You have quarreled ? You cannot speak;
your face would tell a story if I could read it!
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA. 163
 You are under a misapprehension, said the rector.
"It is true we parted under some excitement, but I
give you my word I haven't seen him since.
 Demetrius, said Mrs. Harper, appearing in the
door, "Col. Oppendyke begs to speak with you a
moment in private.
"Will you excuse me ? I will return directly.
"Certainly. Mrs. Hardinage walked restlessly up
and down the room; then, hearing low, excited voices
in the hall, was guilty of a breach of etiquette—she
paused just inside the portieres and listened intently.
The first words she heard blanched her face and caused
her to clutch at the curtains for support.
'' They have found him, then ? exclaimed Demetrius.
"Less than half an hour ago. How did you hear
of it ?
 I will tell you when I have convenient oppor-
tunity. Now we have a most difficult task before us.
His wife is in the next room—she must be informed.
"Don't ask me to do it, said the colonel. "I am
completely unnerved.
"How was it discovered ?
"Why, Andrew lost one of his mittens, and went
back to search for it. One of the village boys was
with him. The poor old fellow was so shaken he could
hardly speak, and no wonder. It's the most atrocious
murder—what's that ?
The sound they had heard was a suppressed cry.
Pushing at the curtains, which she still clutched convul-
sively, Mrs. Hardinage appeared, ghastly, reeling,
struggling to speak, uttering inarticulate cries.
"Oh, this is cruel! cried Mrs. Harper, who had
listened with white face to a part of the con-
versation between her nephew and Col. Oppendyke.
"She has heard—Demetrius, assist her to the sofa.
Oh, my dear! I am so sorry for you!
164
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
But as the rector advanced the woman warned him
off with uplifted hands, the words that fought for ut-
terance finding expression in a hoarse scream.  Not
him! Not him! she cried. "He is my husband's
murderer! She would have fallen, but that Col. Op-
pendyke caught her as she reeled backward.
 She's fainted, thank God, ejaculated Col. Oppen-
dyke.  I couldn't have stood this sort of thing an-
other minute.
 She isn't responsible for anything she says, said
Mrs. Harper, beginning to shed tears. "Put her on
this divan and send Katy in with water and my smell-
ing-bottle.
Demetrius obeyed, and when he returned he found
his aunt alone with Mrs. Hardinage. Col. Oppendyke
was pacing excitedly up and down the wide hall.
"Tell me about this matter, he cried impetuously,
drawing Demetrius into the latter's study. "I feel
as if I were in a nightmare. Did you see Hardi-
nage after we left you ? 
"No; I supposed he had gone home. 
"What did you do after we came away?
 I remained—where I was.
 In that forsaken place? You were alone ? 
The ticking of the great clock in the hall came to
them distinctly in the pause that followed; the wood
on the fire crackled noisily; a strong blast of wind
murmured in the trees and moaned in the chimney.
Demetrius answered quietly, "Yes; I was alone! 
Months afterward the scene came back to Col. Op-
pendyke vividly; he saw again the brilliant light in the
young man's eyes, the sturdy, dogged strength in his
eyes as he uttered the words he was fated to repeat
many times thereafter to an anxious world,  I was
alone!
For to admit now, after all that had passed, the
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
presence of Virginia with him would have been to sac-
rifice her utterly. He felt that; and the next morning
at the inquest when he was questioned under oath in
relation to the affair in all its details, he gave the same
answer he had given to Col. Oppendyke when the same
question was put.
The examination, barring minor details, ran some-
thing as follows:
 Mr. Newcastle, when did you discover the body of
the murdered man ?
"At six o'clock on the evening of the 24th of No-
vember.
"Why did you not give the alarm at once ?
 I intended to do so, but was detained at the rectory
by his wife.
"Where were you when you found the body?
 I was on my way home from our old family vault.
"What were you doing at the vault ?
"I was making investigations of interest.
 Did you meet Mr. Hardinage there ?
"I did, unexpectedly.
 Were you on good terms with the deceased ?
 We could not be said to be on bad terms.
"Were your relations, then, pleasant on this your
last meeting ?
 Not exactly.
"What was the trouble ?
"Mr. Hardinage entered with a party, uninvited,
and was impertinently meddlesome. I will admit I
spoke harshly to him.
 Was that all ? Did you not, during this interview,
threaten his life?
 I did—under an impulse I immediately regretted.
"What led to this violent impulse—this extraordi-
nary action on the part of a man of your vocation?
 I cannot explain it. Who can explain an impulse?
i66
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"Then, Mr. Newcastle, are we to understand that
you act from Impulse rather than from principle?
"I am well known in this community. My charac-
ter can be easily ascertained.
"Mr. Newcastle, when you threatened the life of the
deceased, you had a weapon or implement in your
hand, did you not? What was it?
 It was a hatchet.
 Whose hatchet was it?
 My own.
 Please inform the court how you came to have
this hatchet with you.
"I brought it in order to cut down the trees and
vines that intercepted my entrance into the vault.
 Did Mr. Hardinage know you were to be at the
vault that afternoon ? 
"Not that I know of.
"Was his manner toward you agreeable ? State if
he used offensive language.
 His manner was not agreeable.
 Did he threaten you ? 
 He may have said something of that nature.
 Please tell the court what he said.
"He said if he lived till the next day he would spread
evil reports concerning me.
 Did he not say if he lived until the next day all the
village should ring with your infamy ? 
"Yes, I think that was the way he put it.
'' What did he mean ? 
 I do not know.
 This would seem to hint at some previous quarrel
or secret between you. Was such the case ? 
 There was no secret between us.
"A quarrel or misunderstanding, then ?
 There may have been a misunderstanding.
"What was the cause of this misunderstanding ?
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
167
"We had some discussion at one time as to the le-
gitimacy of his past business relations.
 And he resented it ?
"Yes.
"There had been, then, for some time, a feeling of
enmity toward you on the part of the deceased ?
 That I cannot tell. He is not here to speak for
himself, and I will not accuse him under such circum-
stances.
 Still, you recognized him as an enemy ?
"I recognize no man as my enemy.
 Yet you threatened his life ?
 I have said that was unpremeditated.
"What had Mr. Hardinage done to provoke this at-
tack from you ?
 He was about to open a coffin, against my desire.
"Why did he wish to open the coffin ?
"He said to examine its strange and ancient
mechanism.
"What was in it ? The ashes of your renowned pir-
ate ancestor ?
"No, a treasure.
"A treasure! How came it there ?
 It was deposited there by my great-grandfather. '
 Did Hardinage know this ?
 Not that I know of.
"What objection had you to his examining the
casket ? Surely, you were not afraid of theft from a
man of Mr. Hardinage's position, and in the presence
of two or three witnesses ?
 I have said his manner was annoying.
 Do you mean that he tried to provoke a quarrel ?
 It might have been so interpreted.
 Mr. Newcastle, at precisely what hour did you
leave the vault ?
"At just six o'clock.
i68
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
 Did you look at your watch ?
"No, I heard the town clock strike.
 How long was that after Mr. Hardinage left you ?
"I should judge about an hour.
 You remained an hour in that gloomy place on a
cold November afternoon ?
"I did.
 How did you employ the time ?
"I was busy with the treasure I had found and other
matters.
 Was any one with you ?
 I beg your pardon ?
"Were you alone ?
 I was alone.
 You say, then, that from five o'clock that evening,
until half past six o'clock, or, in other words, from the
time Mr. Hardinage and his friends left you in the
vault, until you arrived at the rectory, you saw no one
and held no communication whatever with any human
being ?
A hush fell over the crowded room which lasted per-
haps twenty seconds. Every eye was fixed on the rector,
every breath was suspended. For those who had care-
fully watched the testimony thus far knew that on this
answer hung the burden of the whole cross-examina-
tion; that unless the rector of St. John's could produce
an alibi he would be placed under arrest for the dread-
ful crime now under investigation. The suspense
grew almost agonizing before the rector spoke again,
and his own face had lost its color. But he said calm*
ly : "I saw no one ! 
With this the cross-examination went on without
break :
 How soon after you left the vault did you discover
the body of the murdered man ? 
 Immediately.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
169
"How ?'
"The hand of the dead man lay, palm upward,
across the path and I trod on it.
 How did you know what it was ? 
 I struck a match and investigated.
"Did you not recognize the man ? 
 The face was turned from me, and was otherwise
unrecognizable.
 Your curiosity did not prompt you to remain long
enough to ascertain who the victim was ? 
 I preferred to leave that to the officers.
 Did you make any effort to inform them ? 
 I came first to the rectory. There I learned the
tragedy had already been discovered.
 Did you go direct from the cemetery to the rec-
tory ?
 Yes—that is—by a roundabout.
 You went direct by a roundabout? Please describe
your route.
 I went by the way of the old road.
 But that was out of your way more than half a
mile ?
 Possibly.
 Why did you take that route ?
 I can give no reason.
 Had you come by the highway you would have
passed police headquarters, and yet you took a
long and obscure route ? 
 I came by the route I have described. 
 It looks dark for Newcastle, groaned Col. Oppen-
dyke, who sat with Mr. Townsend amid the crowd of
eager listeners.
"He's lost, said Mr. Townsend, with a white face.
"There isn't a missing link in the testimony. Why
did he threaten Hardinage when he asked to have a
peep at the casket? What was he doing in that gloomy
170
that girl from bogota.
hole an hour and a half? There's something back of
it all—something I can't make out.
"You don't believe him guilty, interposed Mr.
Townsend. The two men looked at each other.
"God forbid!' said the colonel, "bu^ there's some-
thing that shuts his mouth.
"Well, whatever that 'something' is, it is powerful.
He will never speak. I saw that last night when I
questioned him at his house. He was candid up to a
certain point, then he hedged, as it were. He belongs
to a type of man who will withhold a word and die
rather than speak it and live. There have been such
men in all ages—and women, too. Sometimes it was a
principle'they were living up to; sometimes a whim.
But they walked up to the stake and scaffold with just
such dogged persistency. Heroism? I call it abject
foolishness.
 Well, we've got 'em on our church windows now,
said Mr. Townsend, sententiously, "and they usually
wear a halo.
CHAPTER XIII.
up the magdalena.
The Steamei Cohunbia, afte. a twenty-league trip up
the Magdalena River, was nearing Yeguas, well laden
with freight and carrying about fifty passengers. The
swift, muddy river, narrowing sharply, had partly
emerged from the dense tropical forests that had lined
its banks, and now a wider panorama, embracing a
range of rolling country, broken in the distance by tre-
mendous mountain peaks capped with eternal snow,
burst upon the vision.
The Columbia was as cosmopolitan a barque as can
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
171
well be imagined. Her fifty passengers represented
nearly every civilized nation. There were ladies in the
latest Parisian fashions; shrewd business men return-
ing from the coast, whither they had taken cargoes of
coffee, hides, and ivory-nuts, silversmiths from Mon-
post, who had shipped their trinkets to all parts of the
world; there were a couple of young blonde Jewesses
from Antioquia—that state renowed for the loveliness
of its women—in charge of a hard-featured Spanish
duenna; there was a German geologist with glasses,
pointed whiskers, and a preoccupied look; an Ameri-
can poet and an English naturalist, one accompanied
by his wife, the other by his daughter, who were re-
lated to each other, and who, by the law of natural
selection, had fallen in with the geologist, and become
acquainted with him, with the easy affability of the
Anglo-Saxon race when it is away from home; there
were two or three middle-aged, reserved Spanish
couples, whose profiles and manners hinted at ex-
tremely high caste and long pedigree, who were taking
pretty little daughters to Bogota to be educated at the
Presbyterian Seminary, which, strange to say, is patro-
nized by the best Roman Catholic families in South
America; there was x smoothly shaven gentleman of
forty or thereabout, with keen gray eyes and a square
jaw, who was listening without emotion to extravagant
statements as to the country's resources, revenue,
and capabilities, made by a dark, wiry man, who
talked eagerly and incessantly witu a flow of eloquence
and a storm of enthusiasm not indigenous to the
climate; there was a tall, well-built young fellow, with
a full, smooth face, weak chm, calm, mild brown eyes,
and an imposing personality, .'ho lingered near the
young Antioquian maidens with his soul in his eyes,
which was not encouraged by their duenna. Being
thus repulsed in this direction, the young man ap-
172
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
proached the group composed of the naturalist and
geologist and the ladies of their party, the latter of
whom were in a warm discussion.
 I've counted five hundred and eighty-five on the left
bank; so, as you've only noticed three hundred, of
course I've won the wager, ' said the younger lady, with
a laugh.
 But I only counted full grown alligators, cried the
other. '1 Really, Rema, that isn't fair; you must have
set down every polly-wog in the Magdalena.
 As if one could see anything in this muddy stream.
I only counted those that were sunning themselves on
the bank. I shall expect half a dozen pairs as soon as
we get to Bogota, dear—don't forget. My number is
five and three-quarters.
Here the poet looked up, and, seeing the smooth-
faced, important-looking young man standing near,
said,  Excuse me, sir, but do you know how far we
are from Yeguas * 
"We are about two leagues from Yeguas, and should
be there in an hour or so, replied the young man.
"However, the captain predicts a freshet; and if it
strikes the river before we get to Yeguas it may
delay us a trifle—it adds to the swiftness of the cur-
rent.
"A freshet!  exclaimed the poet, lifting his eyes to
the clear sky, of that deep unchanging blue peculiar to
northern South America. "Why, this is the dryest
place I was ever in. There hasn't been a drop of rain
since we arrived on the coast three weeks ago.
 Nevertheless, there 11 be a freshet in less than
twelve hours. The young man pointed from under the
awning to the snow-crowned peaks of the distant Andes,
and continued: "The snow is already melting and
swelling the hundred streams that are tributary to this
river. By to-morrow morning you wouldn't know the
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
173
Magdalena—it will have gone mad. Yes, that's the
way we produce a freshet in this country.
 The current is immensely swift even now, said
the poet.
 Yes; a boat going up-stream has to travel twelve
miles an hour in order to stand still. Besides the bed
of the river is composed of masses of shifting sand, so
that no one on earth but a native can pilot a boat on
the Magdalena. How he does it he can't tell himself,
neither can anybody else. I suppose he's guided by
some instinct.
 You seem well acquainted with this region ?
 Well, I've been here three years. Allow me. The
young man drew out a card-case and presented a bit of
pasteboard, on which was printed  Miles Selden
Margot.
 Happy to know you, Mr. Margot, said the Eng-
lishman.  My name is Atwater. He then introduced
the others of his party. Mr. Margot drew up a stool
and complacently seated himself. "Yes, he said,
"I've business interests here. Three years ago I
identified myself with the greatest enterprise ever un-
dertaken since the building of the pyramids. He
paused, and seeing the ladies were noticing him, went on
impressively:  I refer to the Moniquiracopper mines,
which you remember Humboldt said would supply the
world with copper for three thousand years. But that's
a moderate statement—the mine will last twice that
length of time.
"Ah, ya-as, drawled the Englishman, "it's likely
to last, isn't it ? Everything here lasts—it isn't used
up, don't you know ? Can't help but last, don't yer
understand ?
 I don't know about that, sir, said Margot, cross-
ing one leg over the other, and transfixing his antagonist
with his eye.  The time is coming, is right on us, in
174
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
fact, when European capital will beg to invest itself in
South American products and enterprises.
 Who's at the head of this concern ?  asked Mr.
Atwater.
Margot wheeled partly round and indicated the wiry,
enthusiastic individual who was doing the incessant
talking, saying: "John Lamar, Government Commis-
sioner for promoting the organization of a stock com-
pany for building a railway from the mine to the coast.
The whole party now turned its attention to the
gentleman referred to, as if drawn by some fascination.
"Do you know, I've never seen such a continuous
display of nervous energy in the tropics, said the
Englishman.
"Yes, Lamar's noted for that—he's the only man
ever known who kept up his enthusiasm two weeks
after reaching this climate. Why, I came down here
raging like a lion, ready to turn the country upside
down with Yankee thrift and energy, but, by George,
when I'd been here a couple of days all I prayed for
was a hammock in the shade. I'm going up to the
estate now to sit in an atmosphere of seventy degrees
and think of nothing for two months. ■ That's what
you want here—monotony! You can't get enough of it. '
"And yet there's considerable business transacted
here ?
"Bet your life, said Margot. "And what's better,
the country has plenty of resources to back it up. Why,
there's fabulous amounts of treasure taken down the
river. The las: time I went to Savanilla before this
there were five hundred thousand dollars on the boat,
I sat at dinner with my feet on a box of gold.
"What is this estate you're going to visit ?'' asked
Atwater, offering Margot a cigarette.
 The estate ? Oh, the freehold estate of the Moni-
quira mine.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
*75
 Is it far from Bogota ? 
 Not quite fifty miles.
"We want to Oo up toward the Orinoco, observed
Mrs. Atwater, speaking as if it were an African jungle.
 Madame, I^m sure the journey would delight you.
And then, the expense is nothing. Why ? Because you
can buy horses at Bogota at a nominal sum, use them
for the trip, and then, when you return sell them for
just what you paid. In that way you can take the
whole trick and it won't cost you a stiver.
Mrs. Atwater looked at her husband. "Are there
any good hotels there ?  she asked, addressing Mar-
got.
"Hotels? queried that gentleman, engagingly.
"No,madam, there are not. But there is a very good
sixteen-room house used as quarters for the mining
officials, storerooms, etc. It is at present occupied by
Mr. Lamar and his wife and daughter. But any one is
made welcome there who feels any interest in the
mine.
Fifteen minutes later Miles Selden Margot ap-
proached the Government Commissioner, who was now
alone, his victim having escaped to the other side of
the boat, where he was apparently resting.
"Ah, Margy, said the commissioner, rubbing his
hands anxiously,  who's the party you've nailed up
there ? 
"Some tourists who want to go up to the estate.
But they're no earthly use; they haven't any money.
 How do you know
"They're too intelligent i A _ oet, geologist, and a
naturalist—who ever heard of people like that having
money ? I don't believe they've got a demned extra
cent.
"You're too sure; you let things slip through your
fingers, cried Lamar.  Besides, you're liable to be
176
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
mistaken. There's poor people who dress extrava-
gantly and throw away money obviously to keep up
their cred't; there's rich people who go out at the
elbows and haggle over a dime because they're known
to be wealthy and there's furtive, distrustful people
who lay up money in their stockings, and then invest
it suddenly some day where they shouldn't. We don't
care for methods—what we want is the capital. And if
they don't invest, themselves, they may know people
who will; or if that won t work, we'll use th ir names
for references in the States, or, on the oiher side,
among those who don't believe there is a Moniquira
mine. All s fish that comes to my fry ! 
"Then you'll invite them up ? 
"Won't I? Glad to do it, too. Ten Brok "—he
indicated his former companion, on the opposite side of
the deck—"is a sulky, hard-headed customer. He
has got to be amused. The estate has a gloomy look
with all those kilns, smeiting-houses, and the blowing
apparatus falling to pieces before one's eyes If we
take a party up it'll look lively and a: if people were
taking an interest. But for your life, Margot, don't
crowd 'em too hard about taking stock. I don't want
to have them express an opinion before Ten Brok.
He's going to invest a little of his fifteen millions in
that mine before he leaves the country, or I'm not the
Government Commissioner.
"I wish I could find some blooming lunatic who
would buy out my share in the devilish thing, said
Margot.
"You don't know a good thing when you see it,
snarled Lamar.
 Well, I don't want too good a thing, don't you
know ? Just a comfortable, moderate, dead sure thing
is good enough for me. I'm not so anxious to get rich
suddenly as I was three years ago.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA,
171
"Hush! The walls have ears—I mean the awn-
ings, warned the Commissioner.  Just take me over
and introduce me to those people, will you ? Then I
must rush around and find Ten Brok—he's wandered
away. I've got to keep him interested.
"I understand that your wife and daughter are at
this Moniquira estate,*' observed Mrs. iVtwater, when
the formula of introduction had taken place.
"Yes. My daughter came down from the States
about four months ago, under the chaperonage of some
friends of ours, who were so foolish as to stop at Bar-
ranquilla for a week. The result was that my daugh-
ter was attacked by malarial fever, partly the result of
the noxious climate on the coast, and partly, I suppose,
of the abrupt change from the rigid winter of the
northern United States to the tropics. My wife and I
went down to Barranquilla and brought her -back with
us as soon as she could travel. She's picking up all
right now. This climate, my dear madam, would raise
the dead. When I think of the good people in the
world who are suffering in the extreme and sudden
changes of heat and cold, with fogs and sleet and
miasma thrown in, I wonder why Providence has placed
me and mine in this paradise. Why, Mr. Margot, here,
my assistant and right-hand man, often says he wouldn't
go back to the States if they were given to him and his
posterity forever. But it's natural—quite natural. If
you stay here two months you won't want to go back.
"That sounds dangerous, laughed Atwater. "But,
by the by, is there any way we could make arrange-
ments to remain a couple of weeks on the Moniquira
estate?
"Certainly. There's a large house and plenty of
peones to do the work, with a fine climate and the
most giorious scenery in the world thrown in. Then
you have the satisfaction of knowing that you are walk-
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
ing over the biggest and richest copper mine on the
planet, I am just conducting the great financier,
Theodore Ten Brok, to the mine. He has come from
Europe especially to convince himself that my state-
ments regarding it are strictly correct. I am glad to
be able to show him that the half has never been told.
Why, Mr. Margot, who has been on the ground three
years, was just now telling me he wished he had a
couple of million to invest.
"Yes, in something else, said Margot, inaudibly,
as he lit a cigarette.
"There comes Ten Brok, exclaimed Lamar a mo-
ment later. "With your permission, as we are all to
be of one party, I'll bring him over and introduce him
to you. He joined the gentleman in question, put-
ting a chummy hand on his shoulder. "Ah, my dear
Ten Brok, I've just come on a party of people bound
for the mine. You've heard of the celebrated geolo-
gist and metallurgist Hirschman, haven't you? Fat
gentleman over there in spectacles. He wants to test
the ore, and if it's what it's represented to be he's with
us. Fact is, they all mean business.
"Quite right, observed Ten Brok, regarding the lit-
tie group of travelers with a cold, unsympathetic stare.
"You don't mind being introduced, do you? They're
going up with us.
"Well—er—I don't know. Look like the kind of
people one likes to keep away from, don't you see?
They talk, and all that.
Here Mr. Ten Brok thrust his hands in the pockets
of his white duck trousers and gazed at the chattering
party with all the mute stubborness of a balky mule.
 They do talk, that's a fact, said Lamar, with in-
nocent frankness, "but I'll see that they don't bore
you. Pretty young lady in the party, you know.
'' Which ?'' asked Ten Brok in an even voice; i ' the
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
179
one with the high voice and freckled nose, or she of
the dumpy figure and double chin ? 
"I'm afraid you're too critical in the matter of femi-
nine beauty. But do you know, those people look
better close to than they do a good ways off. Funny
thing, too.
"Deuced funny, ejaculated the millionaire senten-
tiously, and then, to the chagrin of the Commissioner,
walked away in an opposite direction.
"Stubborn beast!  said Lamar to Margot. "Just
wait till I get him at the mine, fifty miles from a civil-
ized community ! We'll see then if he won't be civil
to the only white people he knows in six thousand
miles.
But at San Pedro, where the party stopped for the
night at the foot of the mountain, Mr. Ten Brok
exhibited quite another phase of his character. The
house, about sixty feet long and divided off into large
apartments, was destitute of any sleeping-accommo-
dations whatever and also of food. A woman and two
very pretty girls who were picking coffee offered the
travelers the shelter of a roof, and a floor and tables
covered with black dust two or three inches deep.
Ejaculations of disappointment and rage were heard
from all the party save Ten Brok, who coolly took ob-
servations of the place, and then, selecting an apart-
ment twenty feet long and fifteen wide for his own,
calmly lay down with his traveling-bag for a pillow and
was seen no more that night.
 He's a queer Dick, grumbled Margot, who had
been cursing his environment in bad Spanish.  When
everything goes right he's terribly bored, but when
things happen that would upset the archangel Gabriel
he's as contented as a baby, blast his Dutch obstinacy.
 Have a care how you speak of my Pet Ambition,
growled Lamar.
l8o THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
 Oh, he'll fool you yet, believe me. You do all the
talking and he does all the thinking.
On arriving at the mine ten days later, the journey
having been taken by easy stages, Mr. TenBrok walked
about the section of the estate on which the buildings
were located, eyeing the general shiftlessness of the
place in disapproving silence. As Mrs. Atwater said
it seemed as if nothing ever could happen there —not
even the revolving of a wheel or the working of a pick-
ax. The traveler was sandwiched between an un-
changing sky and an unchanging earth.
"Just take notice of this view, said Lamar, coming
to this guest, late the same afternoon. "Did you
ever sec anything that would compete with it?
He waved his hand in the direction of the valley
where the Moniquira River wound a mere thread of
silver for fifty miles. About ten miles beyond was a
range of mountains of light blue color; ten miles far-
ther on was another higher range, a deeper blue. At
the top of this range an extinct volcano raised its peak,
tipped with snow, gleaming like a diamond. A slight
fog wreathed the lowlands at the approach of evening.
Between the first and second ranges of mountains was a
streak of white, sharply defined, like snow; just a little
bit farther the other range presented a fainter copy of
the white and blue, and there were different shades of
blue melting into gray fifty miles long with the rib-
bon of silver below, as far as the eye could reach.
 Isn't it beautiful ? repeated tne Commissioner, tri-
umphantly to his guest.
"Yes—O God! How beautiful! exclaimed Ten
Brok in such a tone of exquisite feeling that his listener
felt with a thrill that a chord in this strange nature had
at last been sounded.
"Yes, I think it's pretty fine. Why, the snow-line's
as sharp as a razor. You can see  Here Lamar
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
turned to call his guest's attention to this peculiarity,
and found to his surprise that he was talking to the
man's back. Ten Brok was facing the opposite direc-
tion and was gazing with wrapt attention on an ex-
ceedingly lovely picture on the piazza of the house,
where Virginia, in a gown of pure white of some soft,
clinging texture, was fastening a huge cactate stem to
a pillar of the veranda. Her arms were raised above
her head, and the deep frills of lace falling back re-
vealed their beautiful contour; her face, upraised, was
toward them without seeing them. She was thin and
rather pale, and her movements when she re-entered
the house had all the listless languor of strength only
half regained.
''Who is she? asked Ten Brok in the same intense
voice.
 Why, that's my daughter.
"She is so like my wife.
 Is your wife in Europe? asked Lamar, innocently.
Ten Brok looked down and was silent a moment;
then he said : '' My wife has been dead ten years.
As he spoke he took out his vatch, opened it, and
handed it to Lamar. In the inside of the cover was
the picture of a woman's face; and though the ar-
rangement of the hair was old-fashioned, the Commis-
sioner recognized with surprise the most startling
likeness to his daughter.
 She is like Virginia for a fact! he said in a loud
voice, "only Virginia's younger and—er—fresher, so
to speak.
Ten Brok held out his hand for the timepiece,
snapped the case together sharply, and turned away.
Meanwhile Virginia was looking carefully through a
pile of newspapers lying on a small table in a room
opening on the court. "Mamma! she exclaimed
presently,  there are no papers here at all from the
182
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
United States. I haven't seen an American newspaper
since I left Cragskill. And the English papers are
sometimes mutilated—portions are cut out and again
whole pages gone. What does it mean? 
Mrs. Lamar, a tall, slender woman with a great ex-
panse of forehead, mild blue eyes, and a patient mouth,
looked up, hesitated, and then said:
"What did you say, my dear? 
 Why don't we get any papers from the States? 
Mrs. Lamar was at a loss what to say, for she knew
perfectly well that the American newspapers that had
come up on the last boat were now lying at the bottom
of the Magdalena with a weight attached to them,
where her husband had carefully consigned them; and
that every American periodical that had been sent to
them since Virginia's arrival on the estate had met with
a similar fate. For it had happened that four months
before, on her first arrival at Moniquira, before she had
yet recovered entirely from the effect of the fever, Vir-
ginia had told her mother of the understanding existing
between herself and the rector of St. John's and inti-
mated that her father would receive a letter from De-
metrius very shortly.
Mrs. Lamar saw that this was no mere schoolgirl's
fancy, but an absorbing, lasting affection that had
taken root in the girl's very heart. She feared at that
time to break the dreadful news to her daughter that
had just reached her through the correspondence of
friends at Cragskill—that Demetrius Newcastle had
been condemned to die for the murder of Sylvanus
Hardinage, and was to be executed in the electric chair
on the twenty-fifth of June. So she remained perfectly
silent concerning the matter to Virginia; she, aided
by her husband, even going so far as to intercept let-
ters from Mrs. Maxwell to her daughter, and keeping all
periodicals having reference to the trial away from her.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA. 183
As for Demetrius, no letters from him had been re-
ceived at Moniquira.
Having once started the deception, it was hard to
set the matter right. It was finally concluded that
it would be best to wait until the terrible tragedy was
finished, and then tell Virginia the whole truth at once.
*4 It is so unnatural—so horrible,' went on the girl,
locking her hands tightly and beginning to walk up
and down the room.  Not a letter since I left the
States, and I have written five to Demetrius. Aunt
Maxwell—Mrs. Harper—no one has thought of me.
And I've written again and again. There's some
awful mystery about it. Mamma, tell me one
thing! She stopped suddenly, put her hands on
her mother's shoulders, and compelled that lady to
look her straight in the eyes:  Has Demetrius New-
castle ever written to papa—or you—or anybody here
since last November?
"Virginia, you hurt me, complained Mrs. Lamar,
querulously.
 Tell me, then, and I'll go away, said her daughter,
without relaxing a muscle of her strong, young hands.
"My dear, I have told you a thousand times.
 But you always qualify it some way. Now answer
me straight.
 Virgina, as I hope for mercy, Demetrius Newcastle
has not written one line to your father, to me, to you,
nor anybody here. At least, if he has, it has never
reached us. Now are you satisfied?
"Yes, she answered abruptly, relaxing; then
throwing herself on a wicker steamer-chair piled with
cushions, she burst into a convulsion o sobs.
"Virginia! don't go on so, entreated Mrs. Lamar.
"You make me distracted. Think of me—I mean
think of yourself!
"Oh, I haven't any pride, cried Virginia, reck-
184
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
lessly.  What does it matter? I'm wretched and I don't
care who knows it!
"What shall I do? thought Mrs. Lamar.  If I
tell her it'll kill her; if I don't she will die of the
suspense. I've a good mind to tell her all. I'll
ask John. She cast one look at her daughter, then
left the room, seeking an apartment at the other
side of the big, barn-like building, occupied by her-
self and husband. At this moment Lamar entered the
room by another door, rubbing his hands together.
 He's interested! he exclaimed.
"Who?
"Ten Brok.
 In the mine ?
 No; in Virginia.
"You don't say! ejaculated Mrs. Lamar, who had
preserved several Yankee provincialisms through years
of foreign travel.
"Yes. Says she looks like his wife—-wife is dead,
you know. That's the first symptom, cant you see,
when they begin to take notice—first girl that strikes
their fancy resembles the dear departed. But what is
deuced queer in this case, Virginia does look like her.
"How do you know?
"Saw her picture. He whipped his watch out to
show me—had it pasted in the case. ' There,' says he,
with tremendous condescension, 'don't you see a strong
resemblance—is not your daughter like her?' I said
the picture was like her for a fact, only Virginia was
younger and handsomer.
"Why did you say that ?
 We're just as good as he is, blast his aristocratic
reserve, cried Lamar, pounding on the table. "On,
yes! he shut his watch up with a snap and soured on me
directly. Oh, well! to-day he says Virginia looks like
his wife; six months from now the picture of his first
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
wife will bear a faint resemblance to Virginia. You see
the distinction, eh?
"I don't know, replied Mrs. Lamar, with hesita-
tion.  I don't believe Virginia would encourage him.
Sometimes I think, John, that we ought to tell her the
truth. She will never get over 
"Get over what? What's all this damned foolish-
ness about that puling rector? I'll have no more of it.
Why, here's a man right to our hand, as you may say,
a perfect prize, fine as silk, rich as cream—such a catch
is as rare as skating in midsummer. And here she is
wasting her time over a love-affair she's well out of.
Why, the man's as good as dead!
"You think there's no hope, then? I fancied on ac-
count of his calling, his social position and influence,
his sentence would at least be commuted.
"Those things won't help the poor devil any. The
governor, it is said, took an oath on his own responsi-
bility before he accepted the office, never to pardon a
criminal, and he isn't going to violate it for anybody.
Then, there's a great howl gone up lately from the re-
formers that no one but poor and ignorant men ever
suffer the full penalty of their crimes. And the papers
say the evidence was very conclusive.
 John, do you believe him guilty ? 
"There isn't a doubt of it. He had a reason for
getting the man out of the way; it was his weapon that
did the deed; his own seal ring was found .on the spot;
and lastly and most conclusively, by a slip of the
tongue, he acknowledged that he knew of the murder
before the body was found.
"I wonder what Virginia would say.
"I know what she'd say and what she'd do. She'd
order a horse and start for the States. Yes, that's
what it would come to, visiting him in prison, and get-
ting her name and photograph in the daily papers in
i86
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
great shape. It would ruin her, and I don't intend she
shall have that kind of notoriety. You understand ? 
"Yes, John, replied Mrs. Lamar, meekly.
"And here's Ten Brok, good-looking, old enough to
be toned down and yet not antiquated—he can't be
over forty—and as for family and social connections,
why hear me! He's related to the Holland royal fam-
ily, has had dealings with Baron Hirsch for years, and
has played at baccarat with the Prince of Wales! 
"And is he very rich ? 
"Rich! He's steeped in money, rolling in it, over-
whelmed with it. It's on his mind; he can't get rid of
the interest, there's such a vast accumulation. O
God!  he cried, dashing his broad-brimmed hat to the
floor,  what would I give to have his bank account
for sixty days! 
"What would you do with it ? asked his wife.
"Do ! In twenty-four hours I'd have two hundred
and fifty peones working on the mine; then I'd start a
wire tramway to the coast; then I'd put the whole
thing in the hands of a trusty manager and we'd em-
bark for Europe:
He breathed hard awhile, then finally inquired*
"Where's Virginia ? 
 She's on the piazza opening from her room into the
court. She's been inquiring for American newspapers,
John, and thinks it strange we never get any. I think
she suspects something.
"Wants American newspapers, does she? Well,
here's one Atwater brought in his pocket. It's a month
old. I'll see to it there's nothing about the trial in it
and then take it in to her.
He began casting his eyes up and down the columns.
 Let me help you, said Mrs. Lamar, reaching out
for half the sheet. He handed it to her, and she me-
chanically following a woman's habit, did not omit the
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
187
marriage and death column. Suddenly she uttered a
cry.
 What is it?  asked Lamar.
His wife began in an excited tone to read: "Mar-
ried, at Leipsic, on March 17th, by the Reverend Au-
gustus Fordingham, at the Church of the Heavenly
Host, Demetrius Newcastle, of New York City, U. S.
A., and Eleanor Agnes Bruce, of Jamescourt, England.
 The deuce!  cried Lamar. "Why, the latest news
from Cragskill reported the rector still in Sing Sing
awaiting the execution of his sentence.
"And the rector is not of New York City, either.
It must be a relative. Oh, yes, how stupid in me not
to remember. He has a cousin by the same name.
"They must have been hard up for names in that
family.
"Why, the Bishop's narpe was Demetrius, you know,
dear, and when there is an illustrious person in the
family the children are sure to be named after him
pretty liberally. The Bishop had two brothers, and
each of them named his eldest son after their uncle.
 It wouldn't be a bad idea to show this to Virginia,
would it ? asked Lamar, after a moment's thought.
"Great idea! The suspense is what's keeping her
down. If she thought he was married she'd get
over it.
"John, don't!  exclaimed his wife, catching at the
paper as he passed her. "It's wicked—it's not
right 
But Lamar strode past her without reply, going di-
rectly to the piazza on the court, where he found his
daughter still lying in her steamer-chair, propped with
cushions though the paroyxsm in which Mrs. Lamar
had left her had passed.. "See here, Virginia, he
said, sitting down beside her, "what's all this nonsense
1 hear about you ? I thought you were a girl of nerve
i88
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
and spirit. There's no use crying over spilt milk, any-
how, so let's have no more of it.
"Give me a day or two longer, papa, pleaded Vir-
ginia, wearily.
 One'll do. That's right, take a day off and then
brace up and be yourself again. We're all going to
the mine to-morrow afternoon, and I want you to go
up. You hear me?
"Yes, papa. I suppose you've felt impatient with
me.
 Not I, said Lamar, looking at her proudly. "I
wish I had a dozen more just like you. He kissed her
on the cheek with a resounding smack.  I want you
to get your color back again and your impudence.
Come, shake yourself together. Jig's up, you know—
man's married—might as well give it up as a bad job.
There now; let's have no more of this mawkish sen-
timent. See!
"Married! Virginia sprang up and pushed the
hair away from her eyes. "Who is married? Mr.
Newcastle?
"All I know about it is what the paper says—don't
take my word for it. Here it is. And he passed the
sheet to her with his thumb on the marriage notice.
He watched Virginia while she read it with furtive
eyes, his chin in his hand and his elbow on his knee;
saw her face change from deadly white to burning
crimson. Then she rose, drew herself up to her full
height, with quivering lips and eyes flashing fire, and
casting the paper to the ground put her foot upon it.
"Coward! she cried.  I hate him!
Lamar suddenly left the spot without speaking.
 She's all right, he exclaimed, bursting into his wife's
apartment a moment later;  God bless her, she's all
right!
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
189
CHAPTER XIV.
the dutch millionaire.
On the next afternoon the whole party visited the
entrance of the mine on horseback, some peones fol-
lowing with a pack-animal carrying a substantial lunch,
for Mrs. Lamar, with motherly thoughtfulness, had es.
timated that the journey would give her guests an
appetite.
On this occasion Ten Brok met Virginia for the first
time face to face. She had hardly been out of his mind
since he had seen her the day before—even his dreams
were haunted by her. He had once been intensely at-
tracted by the back of a lady's head on a railway train
which he admired for miles and imagined all kinds of
beautiful types for the face accompanying it; but when
she had turned round he was horrified to observe that
she was cross-eyed and had a retreating chin. He al-
most feared to meet Virginia lest he should be simi-
larly disillusionized. He thought she must at least
have a shrill voice and large feet. Judging from her
parents he would not have been surprised at anything.
But far from being disillusionized, he was doomed to
be still further fascinated. Her riding-habit became
her to perfection and she was a fine equestrienne. He
kept near her; they said very little, yet he felt exhil-
arated by her presence, as though he had grown
younger.
The entrance to the mine was shaped like a huge
cavern, and pine knots had been brought to light them
about. So many years had passed since the mine had
been worked that it had a solemn, eyrie appearance.
"Ah, said the metallurgist, "if some one would but
190 that girl from bogota.
revive the lost art of tempering copper to the consist-
ency of steel—that would be fame—that would be fame
undying!  He looked speculatively at the glinting
metal.
 Do you know, said the poet dreamily to his wife,
 this reminds me of the fabulous cave whither the
ancient Greeks conveyed a boat-load of young men and
maidens each year to be devoured by the hydra-head-
ed monster! 
 Gentlemen and ladies, Lamar was saying loudly,
"lam happy to introduce to you the richest copper
mine on this planet. All it needs is a little well-applied
capital to make it the best paying enterprise of three
continents. Why, there's eighteen ounces of silver to
the ton! This metal, carried on the backs of mules to
San Fernando, brought a rich dividend to its stockhold-
ers; what can we say, then, of the proceeds that will
accrue when we have a wire tramway for communicat-
ing directly with the coast! I give you my word it can
be delivered in England at twenty pounds per ton even
at the present mode of transportation! Why, gentle-
men, what would you have ? Here is every facility—
forests right to our hand for making charcoal, besides
extensive coal deposits, and, as for native labor it's
cheaper than slavery. The man who invests now gets
in on the ground floor, too, and is going to make a
fortune as sure as death and taxes—there's money,
money, money in it! 
A short silence followed, and Margot removed his
hat, for he knew Lamar was speaking of his god!
 Do you never get lonely here?  asked Ten Brok of
Virginia.
 I have been here only a short time, she replied.
 I was at school.
"Ah, indeed. In Colombia or in the States ?'
 In the States—New England.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA. Ipi
•'Tnat accounts for it, he thought. "She's been
away so much, her home environment has never had a
chance to spoil her.
"As soon as operations are opened on the mine,
Margot was remarking to Miss Sherwood, Mrs. At-
water's sister-in-law,' 'I shall be made general manager.
"And shall you like that?
"Well, of course, it will be a great responsibility.
I've sacrificed myself for three years to Lamar's con-
venience. But that's my way. I'm always sacrificing
myself for somebody. Sometimes I think I will begin
and live for myself a little while. He looked at her
and sighed sentimentally. "She's pretty—if she only
had a pot of money I could love her, he was thinking.
"I wonder how I can find out?
 Luncheon is ready, announced Mrs. Lamar.
"Really, I feel as if I were in the Arabian Nights,
said Atwater, as they walked into a little grove near
by and found a delicious cold repast spread on a snowy
cloth; two or three peones in their gay cotton gowns
confined at the waist by sashes improvised by Virginia
to give them an Oriental appearance acting as waiters.
The luncheon was adorned with flowers and palms, and
out of sight behind a screen of bushes a couple of
brown-skinned natives thrummed on stringed instru-
ments a wild and monotonous refrain.
"We might have a dance, suggested Miss Sher-
wood.
"The ground is too uneven, Rema, said Mrs. At-
water.
"We will have a dance this evening if you like,
Miss Sherwood, suggested Mrs. Lamar, obligingly.
"We cannot furnish first-class music, but there's plenty
of room.
"I haven't danced for three years, observed Mar-
got, plaintively, to Miss Sherwood. "Ah, you can't
192
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
think what a treat it is to meet you here—to know you
he sighed as he helped her to sweet pickles.
''Why, I have always heard so much of the beauty of
South-American women that I expected to be quite
overwhelmed with it, laughed Miss Sherwood.
"There are beautiful South-American women, re-
marked Margot, with solemn conviction, "but they
are not—my countrywomen!
Then, as her eyes drooped slightly and a tinge of
color came into her face, he said to himself: "By
Jove, she is as sweet as a peach. I wonder if she has
got any money?
Ten Brok and Virginia rode home almost as si-
lently as they came. This peculiar absence of con-
versational proclivities struck the Hollander as a
wonderfully lucky failure on her part. He was always
irritated by people who talked merely to avoid silence.
He wondered why she was silent. Was it because she
knew it was effective? Did she know her beauty was
enough? Or, was it because she was indifferent to him?
"She is so young, he said to himself, as if he
liked the fact. "She is a mere schoolgirl—none of
the down rubbed off—all her sweet naturalness intact.
If she doesn't think of anything to say, she doesn't
say anything. She can't be absolutely perfect, though.
I wonder how soon I shall discover some defect?
So they rode on through the strange, wild country
side by side, with the river creeping like a bit of silver
through the valley below, and the great unfathomable
forests stretching on either side filled with birds of gay
plumage, though songless. And as they traveled Ten
Brok began to feel that this continued silence was not
the absence of something, but expressive of some-
thing. There was feeling in it. So it came about that
this man ennuied with all the world, was gripped with
curiosity concerning the moods and disposition of a
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
T93
schoolgirl who neglected to notice him and only re-
plied in monosyllables. It was an emotion he had not
experienced for years, and it brought with it a certain
zest and happiness.
Arriving home a little before dusk, the ladies, as-
sisted by the servants, dressed the long storeroom
with palms and wild-flowers, and at eight o'clock the
music and dancing began. Since the death of his wife,
ten years before, Ten Brok had not entered a ballroom,
but he now looked forward to the amusement with a
keen pleasure.  I wonder if she dances well? he
mused, watching impatiently for her appearance.  I
do detest a clumsy partner.
He took two or three turns with Miss Sherwood and
Mrs. Atwater, and then perceived that Virginia was
waltzing with Margot. A sudden rage came over him
at the sight—a passionate, unreasoning disapproval.
He watched her, enchanted in spite of himself with the
exquisite beauty of motion, and, as soon as the dance
was concluded, approached her with a fan which he
wielded for her benefit. But he did not ask her to
dance, nor did he dance himself again that night. With
sulky obstinacy he could not get over the fact that
Margot had had the first waltz, and he would not be
second.
An hour or so later he approached her again—for
Virginia had danced continuously with various part-
ners, and said, "It's moonlight—won't you favor me
with a little stroll on the piazza ?
"Certainly, she answered, and they wandered out
upon the long veranda, whither Mr. and Mrs. Atwater,
and Margot and Miss Sherwood, had already preceded
them. Catching a fleecy white wrap from a chair as
they passed, he wound it around her, noting the ex-
quisite effect of the snowy garment contrasting with
the raven, silky black hair lying in babyish curls over
194
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
her head and nestling against her soft white neck.
She was so like his child-wife in the moonlight that he
could have clasped her in his arms and begged her to
remember him and speak to him again.
Ten Brok was a man of singular individuality. It
was a principle of his nature to cling with dogged per-
sistency to past conditions—he called it loyalty. Vir-
ginia, through her remarkable resemblance to his dead
wife, therefore, possessed a fascination over him that
no woman of a different type could possibly have
achieved. Her silence, the gentle languor of her move-
ments, due to recent illness,—even this fostered the
idea of the likeness, for Mrs. Ten Brok had inherited
a weak constitution and had never enjoyed strong
vivacity of health or spirits. He had met Virginia at
a time when both physically and mentally she was to-
tally unlike herself, and fancied it to be her normal
condition.
Virginia, for her part, thought him immensely dig-
nified, and he did not interest her sufficiently to keep
her mind from straying. She knew she felt unlike talk-
ing, but was quite unconscious of how far she had al-
lowed her mood to rule her, until Ten Brok said:  Do
you know, I'm awfully glad you say so little.
"Say so little—I? she felt slightly conscience-
stricken and ashamed.
"Yes. It gives me the happiness of a dear illusion.
'"An illusion—about me ?  Virginia laughed a lit-
tie. "That's odd, for you've only known me since
morning.
"Well, that's my illusion that I knew you ten years
ago.
"When? Where?
 If I can prove to you that I knew you then will you
believe me ? 
 Certainly.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
195
Ten Brok conducted her to the edge of the piazza,
where they might get the full effect of the moon's rays,
and, opening his watch, drew her attention to the pic-
ture inside the cover. Virginia, who had heard nothing
said upon the subject by her father, glanced curiously
at the face that looked back at her almost like a re-
flection in a mirror, so like it was to her own.
"Why—it is—it is my very self! she exclaimed.
"Ah, now, instead of dispelling my illusion you
have confirmed it. Thanks! Thanks/ said Ten Brok,
intensely.
Virginia felt something of the same intuition of the
fox that scents a trap. "Tell me who she is, please,
she said, returning the watch.
"I will before you go in, he replied.  For the
rest of our promenade allow me the satisfaction your
words have given me.
He offered her his arm and they resumed the march.
After a few turns Virginia paused before the door.
"Good night, she said with a smile.
"Ah, so soon! Well, good night.'
' 'But you haven't told me who the mysterious lady is.
 She is—or was—my wife.
Virginia was slightly moved by the note of sadness
in his voice. "She—died?
"Ten years ago. She was so young to die, and we
were so happy! For her sake you will not refuse me
—this?
He caught her hand, but awaited her answer before
pressing it to his eager lips; though while he waited
he held it crushed tight against his breast. His half-
repressed emotion startled Virginia.
"No! no! she said, with a little stamp of the foot
and shake of the head, like the capricious child that
she was.
She tore her hand away and ran into the house; then,
196
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
smitten with contrition for her vehemence, she paused,
looked half around and added in a subdued voice,
"But I forgive you!
 Listen! said Ten Brok, coming quickly to her and
detaining her. "An offense pardoned before it is
committed is like a check signed and not filled out.
So  He bent and kissed her, not on the hand,
but on her cool, bare arm, between the wrist and elbow.
She broke away from him half indignantly and moved
away, trembling. She felt the passionate intensity of
his caress all the way down the long corridor, and when
she reached her room involuntarily glanced at her arm
to see if there was a mark there.
Asunta, who sat in an easy bamboo chair, smoking,
eyed her with cynical disapproval.  So he has kissed
you? she said.  I would rather sear my flesh with a
red-hot iron than that his lips should touch it. You
have forgotten the padre? 
"Don't speak of him! He has forgotten me. I
have humiliated myself enough to write to him five
times, but not a word have I had in reply. Asunta,
he is married!
"To me that would make no difference. If I loved
a man I would never give him up, though he were to
love and marry a hundred other women. I'd wait ten
thousand years, if need be, until. I found the time and
place when he should recognize me for his own. But
this sullen, dogged creature—this Ten Brok, who has
no life, no soul higher, deeper, or wider than his social
world allows him, whose scales never tip down on any
question with the world's opinion on the other side—
sordid, selfish, hard as iron, and cruel as the grave—
what do you want with him?—whose life is that of the
mushroom, which is neither warmed by the sun, moved
by the breeze, nor gladdened by the rain, but fattens
only on the rank soil it feeds on.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
197
 How do you know? He is a stranger to you. I
am afraid, my poor Asunta, you are jealous, said Vir-
ginia, who was in that irritable state of mind that loves
to vent itself on its best friends.
"I! Jealous?
"Yes, went on the girl, in an intentionally exasper-
ating tone. "You are not as agreeable as you used to
be. You used to tell me stories, sing for me, and en-
tertain me beautifully. Now you do not please me.
In a short time I shall care nothing for you.
"Madre de D/os! said Asunta, softly, rising.
"What are you doing? asked Virginia, looking at
her, as with swift steps the woman moved about the
room gathering up articles of attire.
Asunta made no immediate answer, but in less than
ten minutes the woman appeared before her with a
traveling-bag in her hand.
"I go to my own people, she said.
"Asunta! The girl sprang half up. "You have
no people. You told me they were all dead—killed in
a revolution.
"What matters it? It may be I can follow them
where they went. Think you the bridges are all
down ?
A tear rolled down Virginia's cheek, and she held out
her arms with a beseeching look. Asunta looked at her
an instant with fiery eyes and lips compressed; then
she suddenly flung the traveling-bag recklessly from
her and came and took the girl in her arms.
 Blood of my heart! do you think I could leave you?
When I was despairing—when home, friends, parents,
husband, all were taken—I found you and I loved you
because there was kinship between us. Do what you
will—say what you will—you are mine, mi querida ! 
"I didn't mean it, Asunta, what I said. But I am
wretched. I wanted to hurt somebody so they could
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
share my pain. You are wise and strong; help me to
kill this love that is killing me.
'' Love is a terrible thing; you can't kill it, because it
has so many phases. Crush it in one direction and it
comes up in another. It is sweet, it is bitter; it is en-
nobling, it is debasing; it is heaven, it is hell; it is the
highest happiness, it is the deepest misery; it is the
tiger's thirst for blood; it is the joy of the Madonna as
she looked for the first time on the Infant Son of God.
But give me happiness or give me misery; let it be
heaven or let it be hell—only, dear God! let me get
down close to the warm beating core of nature, and not
lie stagnant on the cold rim of the world!
 Asunta, you have loved, murmured Virginia after
a pause.
 I have loved! 
 And he is dead ? 
 Dead, yes, for years and years, and gone to dust
and ashes; but that part of him which came into my
life and changed me from what I was to what I am,
lives yet!
After that they sat quietly in each other's arms per
haps an hour; then the door opened softly and a femi-
nine voice whispered, "Virginia! Are you asleep?
 No, mamma.
 Then come to my room a few minutes. I want to
speak to you.
Virginia slipped out of Asunta's embrace and fol-
lowed her mother to the apartment indicated. Mrs.
Lamar closed the door with a mysterious air. Her
eyes were brilliant and her thin cheeks wore little daubs
of red, as though she had used rouge unskillfully.
 My dear, she began,  I wonder if you know how
great an interest Mr. Ten Brok has taken in you.
Virginia shook her head and regarded her mother
with a neutral expression.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
199
 Do sit down; you look as if you were about to go
every minute. Virginia sat down.
 Mr. Ten Brok, went on Mrs. Lamar,  is obliged
to leave us in a few days to meet an engagement. He
realizes it is very sudden, but he expressed to your
father this evening not an hour ago his great admira-
tion for you, and asked to be allowed to pay his ad-
dresses to you. Undoubtedly he will speak to you on
the subject to-morrow and I wished to prepare you.
 Of course I don't want him, said Virginia, calmly.
"You shall do as you please about accepting him,
only I want you to give the matter some thought.
Consider it well, and make up your mind whether you
want to be a solemn, weird old maid, or whether you
will be married. For if you ever marry at all you can-
not do better than to seize this opportunity. Think
of yourself, not as you are now at twenty, but at thirty
—forty—fifty! 
"Don't, mamma! Virginia shuddered.
"And then I don't wish to over-rate money; I only
want to give it its proper value. Money isn't the best
thing in the world, Virginia, but it's so near like it you
can hardly tell the difference.
"Is he very rich?
 He is very rich.
"I suppose it would help papa, suggested Vir-
ginia, musingly. "Poor papa! He has been on the
brink of a great success so many times, and through
all his disappointments he keeps up the same lively
courage. Something good ought to come to him.
"Don't think of us. All we want is that you take
advantage of your best opportunities. I always
imagined you would make a brilliant marriage. But
your father's schemes failed, one after the other, and
with our way of living, wandering around as we did,
there never seemed any real place for you. I trusted
200
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
you a great deal to Asunta, and I think she's put a
good many foolish notions in your head you'd be better
off without.
 She has taught me to be genuine, if that is fool-
ish.
 What do you mean by that?
"I mean that she has taught me to talk and act as
I think and am, mamma, and not to assume a part for
the sake of pleasing others.
"I have no objection to that; but what you want
now is a little sound common-sense.
"Yes, when all the ideality goes out of life, common-
sense is the next best thing, and we'll make believe we
like it better. But if I marry Mr. Ten Brok he's got
to do something for papa. I'm not going to be so sen-
sible for nothing.
 He will, said Mrs. Lamar, quickly.
'' He made that condition, did he? He wants to buy
me! Well, it seems commercial instincts have some-
how crept into the Holland royal family; but I'm
afraid he's a bit extravagant. I shall come high! '
"Virginia, stop! Don t dare to talk that way; you
horrify me. Of course, there was nothing said; such a
thing could not come up between gentlemen. But
sometimes, you know, there's a glance of the eye or a
trick of speech. But don't talk in that way again, dear.
"Dear mamma, kiss and make up! I didn't mean to
shock you, but you're so awfully hard to please. When
I am imaginative and romantic, you blame Asunta;
when I'm practical and have sense, I horrify you. I
won't have anything more to do with the matter; I
wash my hands of it.
"You will refuse him ?
 Not at all, I'll marry him. I took a dislike to him
at first sight and I'm going to wreak a dreadful ven-
geance on him, replied Virginia with a burst of
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
201
laughter. "He won't know a happy moment from the
time he gets me.
 Oh, I'll risk that, said Mrs. Lamar, smiling.
 But tell him not to speak to me about it. He can
make the arrangements with papa and you.
"Yes, I think that would be the better way, an-
swered her mother, looking relieved.
Lamar delivered Virginia's answer to Ten Brok the
next day. The Hollander received it with pleased
satisfaction, not only as regarded the reply itself, but
the conditions accompanying it. He was delighted
with the modesty and reserve which prompted the
young girl to defer everything to her parents and keep
herself entirely in the background, for he had a great
many conservative and Old-World ideas. He only saw
his fiancee in the presence of her mother or Asunta
until a few moments before his departure, when he
broke over the rules and under pretense of examining a
Carica papaya that grew near the house, saw her a few
moments alone.
"We shall meet again two months from now at your
father's country home at Charlotte, near Lake Cham-
plain ?  he queried.
 So I have been informed.
 And our wedding will take place there on the 2cth
of June !  he went on easily.
"Yes, papa told me that was the arrangement, re-
plied Virginia with equal serenity.  Is it not strange,
she added, immediately going to a flowering shrub and
bending her face to the blossoms, "that though the
flowers of the tropics are so brilliant and beautiful,
they are not as sweet as those of the North ?
Ten Brok looked at her and his stolid intellect was
inspired to the pitch of a spontaneous compliment.
He said,  I think you must be indigenous to both
climates.
202
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
Virginia glanced up at him with a slight elevation of
the eyebrows, then her long curly black lashes drooped
and she murmured something inarticulate. The Hoi-
lander broke off the flower she had touched and thrust
it into his breast.  She is perfect—perfect!  he said
to himself as they returned to the house. ''She just
suits me—she's the one I want! But where did she
get it ? Not certainly from her detestable father or
her inane mother.
For Ten Brok regarded Mr. and Mrs. Lamar with
equal dislike; it seemed to him that the bad qualities
each one lacked were amply supplemented by the
other. He hardly knew which he despised most,
Lamar's vulgar greed for power and money, or his
wife's passive acceptance of untoward circumstances.
On the previous afternoon Virginia's "detestable
father  and her fiance.had had a conversation relating
to financial matters, on a secluded corner of the piazza.
"Well, what do you think of the Moniquira, asked
Lamar,  now that you've seen it ? 
 Beg pardon ?  murmured Ten Brok, moving a lit-
tie away, for Lamar was smoking. Ten Brok was not
a smoker and he disliked the odor of a cigar.
 What do you think of the mine, old boy ? 
"I don't mind putting in two hundred and fifty
thousand, replied Ten Brok inconsequently. "That'll
give you a start, you know.
Lamar, with all his sang froid,, gasped and swallowed.
It was just one hundred and fifty thousand dollars
more than he had aimed at.  You couldn't make it
five hundred thousand, could you ?  he asked as soon
as he could speak.
c' No! I shall never put in another dime under any
circumstances; so make the most of that, said Ten
Brok, looking at him coolly.
Early the next morning Ten Brok set out on his re-
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
203
turn journey, accompanied by his prospective father-in-
law, who was to see him safely to Bogota.
An elaborate trousseau was immediately ordered for
Virginia to be delivered in New York, aud preparations
were at once made to leave the country, for directly
after the wedding Mr. and Mrs. Lamar were to sail for
Europe, the financier going in search of further capital
for his enterprise.
"The country home, as Ten Brok had magnifi-
cently styled it, was in reality a run-down farm which
John Lamar had inherited. It was Ten Brok's sug-
gestion that they should be married from this place as
soon as he had learned of its existence. He thought a
young girl should be married from her parents' home,
if they had one, rather than at an hotel, and that the
home was a farmhouse in ill repair did not matter par-
ticularly, as the wedding would be a quiet one, and as
soon as it was over the Hollander intended—indeed he
had sworn with silent but solemn oaths—that Virginia
should be as completely separated from her relatives as
if they had never seen her.
Besides, the location at Charlotte suited him for the
place of the wedding. At Burlington, not many miles
away, Ten Brok possessed a magnificent residence, in
which he planned to spend the honeymoon. He had
not visited the place for ten years, on account of happy
recollections there made painful by subsequent events.
He and his young wife had spent the first month of
their married life at this villa, and though his mind had
often turned thither in homesick longing, he could not
endure the many reminders of her the spot would offer.
It did not seem to him incongruous to bring Virginia
there; her likeness to his dead wife was so remarkable
that he constantly associated the two together, so that
his marriage actually seemed more like reviving an old
tie than forming a new one.
204
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
Virginia had not been at the farm at Charlotte since
her childhood, and, after the long voyage and subse-
quent travel by land to reach the place, it seemed a de-
lightful spot to rest in. The house had been repaired
and refurnished, and even Ten Brok said it was not half
bad. The trousseau had been forwarded from New
York, and reached the bride-elect some days before
the wedding. Virginia, who had all her share of wo-
men's love for pretty wearing apparel and had never,
for financial reasons, been able to fully gratify it, was
carried away with the beauty of her Parisian toilettes.
"My gowns are simply marvelous, she said to her
fiance, in rapturous admiration, the evening before the
wedding.  I wish I could get married every day in
the week!
Ten Brok burst out laughing. He was highly amused
with her. "I don't know that I would object, he
said,  provided you were always married to me.
'' Oh, that would be quite immaterial so long as I had
the nice new gowns, replied Virginia, flippantly.
"By the way, she added, "I've something to ask of
you.
 Don't ask when you can command.
"Ah, then I command that Asunta shall always be
with me and go wherever I go.
"Asunta! That is the Spanish woman 
 Not Spanish—Asunta would die if she heard you
say that! She's Moorish and Indian.
"Heavens! What a fearful combination. Is she
here with you?
"Yes.
"Very well, said Ten Brok, with great lack of en-
thusiasm. "If you want her, of course she shall ac-
company us, he added, with easy acquiescence. He
had a good many ideas about the future of Mrs. Ten
Brok which were decidedly different from those which
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
205
Virginia entertained for herself; but he wisely refrained
from expressing them before the wedding.
That event took place very quietly the next day at
noon. Mr. and Mrs. Ten Brok, after the wedding
breakfast, boarded the train for Burlington accom-
panied by Asunta and Victor, Ten Brok's valet, who
had accompanied his master to Charlotte.
After the rattle of the carriage wheels had died away
and a solemn stillness succeeded the bustle of de-
parture, John Lamar and his wife sat down and looked
at each other, experiencing that reaction which follows
the tension of excitement.
"Hang it, I'm glad it's over. I thought up to the
last minute some information would bob up about that
rector that would knock everything silly, said the
financier.
"Well, I hope Virginia will be happy. We've done
the best we could for her, answered Mrs. Lamar, trem-
ulously.
"Yes, it's the only success I've ever had—and why?
Because I've been working along wrong lines—I ought
to have started a matrimonial agency.
"John!  Mrs. Lamar burst into tears. "I feel as
if we had sold her—sold her to a man she doesn't care
for. And—and sometimes there's something about
him that scares me—something hard like iron and cold
like ice. I didn't notice it at Moniquira, but since
we've been here—I've wished a dozen times the whole
thing was off.
"He'd better treat her right, or he'll hear from John
Lamar!  replied the Government Commissioner, bois-
terously.
The next morning Mr. and Mrs. Lamar went to New
York, and the succeeding day sailed for Europe.
2o6
that girl from bogota.
CHAPTER XV.
mr. ten brok's bride astonishes him.
The White Birches, Ten Brok's lakeside residence,
had been extensively remodeled and refitted during the
two months preceding his marriage, and the suite of
apartments for the bride-elect were a combination of
rich and artistic effect, such as might have been fit ap-
pointments for royalty itself. For ten years the place
had been in the care of an old Scotch couple, but now
a goodly corps of servants had been engaged, and the
handsome villa already wore an appearance of life apd
festivity.
All the morning, under the management of a capable
housekeeper, the maidservants had flown hither and
thither putting finishing touches upon the rooms; there
were cut flowers everywhere, arranged by a skillful
florist, who had come up from New York to superin-
tend the matter and also to fit out the conservatory,
which opened from the dining-room, with a choice se-
lection of plants, palms, and ivies; and by three o'clock
in the afternoon, at which time the train was due at the
Burlington station, everything was in complete readi-
ness and the entire household was in a state of nervous
expectancy.
The exception that proved the rule in this instance
was an old man with a rugged, honest face and keen,
Scotch eyes, who sat calmly reading in the little rear
porch opening from the servant's quarters. He read
slowly and evidently with great interest, whispering
the words and sometimes interrupting himself with
such exclamations as, ''Eh? "To be sure, now!
or, "Ah, the poor mon! So absorbed was he that
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
207
he did not notice that a stout woman, with handsome
gray hair arranged in puffs above her forehead, brown
eyes and a lively color, was standing with her hands on
her hips eying him disapprovingly.
"Well, to be sure! Here ye are poring over that
bit o' sinfu' trash instead o' getting dressed to greet the
master and the new missus when they come. Shame
on you now! 
John Fergus, who had been caretaker at the White
Birches for ten years and who had grown into such a
sense of ownership concerning it that he almost re-
sented the intrusion of its proprietor, looked up at his
wife doggedly.
"Hoot, now, Margaret! Sinfu'trash! It's no lees
I'm reading but an honest, truthful murder, God help
the poor wretch that did it! It's like to make the hair
prick up on your head to read about it, and the awfu'
chair they'll lead him up to and seat him in it quiet and
perlite like, as if it was to rest him, and it striking him
dead while you would wink your ee! And he, the
poor mon, with ees like a angel's and as fine a face as
you'd want to see meetin' ye at heaven's gate, an' a
soul so black with wickedness that you'd wonder the
de'el hadn't took him afore he had a chance to try the
chair!
"Who gave you that murder ? asked Margaret in a
high, angry tone.
"Eh, now, I'll not be tellin' tales, chuckled John
Fergus, slyly.  I'll say this, though: I never laid my
hands on a better murder. It's a bit harrowin' to the
patience when they comes in the papers day by day or
week by week, the lawyers worritin' the witnesses a
column at a time when you want to get on into the
thick of the trouble, and leaving off every time there
happens a bit of a thing they call an adjournment,
which has the bad luck to take place in the worst
208
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
time it could come. But here is the whole thing in
this wee bit bookie, with good, honest print, as neat
and handy as a Bible, and the picture of the awfu' sin-
ner on the outside, as a warnin' to other bonny laddies
whose faces don't tell the story of their consciences.
 But you won't see the new missus when she comes.
Orders was left with me to have all the men and maids
in the hall by the door to welcome her in old-country
style. But you're not fit, look at your coat and hair!
Shame on you, what will the master be thinking of
you, not to be there to make a decent bow to the
bride! 
With that she whisked away indignantly, and her
husband, with a look of thrilling interest, again turned
to his beloved murder; for reading the accounts of
criminal court proceedings had been his one dissipa-
tion for years. But now he discerned wheels coming
up the driveway and heard the flutter of the women
servants in their stiff-starched gowns hurrying to the
front entrance. For once his interest flagged in the
most exciting part of the proceedings. He began to
feel curiosity to see the new mistress, for whom the
place had been in a turmoil of preparation for two
months. To appear before her as he was he knew was
not to be thought of; but the idea came to him that he
might steal into the library, which was in the front of
the house, and peer out at the newcomers through the
blinds.
Accordingly, closing the pamphlet over his fore-
finger, he crept noiselessly through the intervening
rooms. The library door opening into the hall was
closed; everything favored his plan. The shutters of
the inside blinds, however, were wide open, and in
order to partially close them he laid his book upon the
table, spreading it open to bold the place. The carriage
was already at the door and Mr. Ten Brok was assist-
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
209
ing a young lady to alight who looked wonderfully
girlish in her traveling costume, which revealed the
slender outlines of her figure, and whose face caused
the old man to stare and mutter, it bore so strong a
resemblance to a certain portrait hanging in one of the
rooms above. But suddenly the library door was
opened, and the old servitor had just time to dodge be-
hind a tall screen and escape before his master en-
tered.
A few minutes later Virginia stood alone in her mag-
nificent bridal apartments. Ten Brok had noticed she
looked weary and had left her with Asunta, saying that
when she chose to go over the house he should be at
her disposal—he wanted to see her in every room so
as to feel that she was indeed a part of everything.
Then after laying away her traveling wraps and as-
sisting her to assume one of her marvelously pretty
house gowns, Asunta had stolen away also, and she
was quite alone.
She stood in the center of the white and gold apart-
ment with its rich hangings, its curiously carved furni-
ture, its dressing-table inlaid with pearl, its creamy-
tinted carpet, soft as moss and strewn with daisies and
everywhere its abundance of delicate ferns and white
rosebuds, so that the air was almost heavy with deli-
cate perfume, and in an opposite, full-length mirror
caught a glimpse of herself—a tall, slender figure ex-
quisitely proportioned, clad in a gown of palest green
and slippered and hosed in the same delicate hue—a
lovely jewel in all its gorgeous setting.
Virginia sat down at one of the windows and, resting
her chin in her hands, gazed off upon the wide, rip-
pling lake, and out beyond where a gray haze marked
the place Champlain was superseded by the Adi-
rondack forests. For the first time she faced her new
obligations seriously and earnestly, and as she thought
210
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
of Ten Brok's long loyalty to his first marriage and his
generosity to her parents and herself, she determined
to be true to him, not simply in deed, but that every
thought, spoken or unspoken, should come into alle-
giance to her newly uttered vows. These reflections
being ended, she took another glance at her costume to
be sure it was all it should be, and stole down-stairs to
meet her husband in the library.
The blinds were drawn and the room darkened, for
the weather had suddenly jumped to that of midsum-
mer, and the library faced the west. Virginia thought
the room untenanted at first, but as she stood looking
at the titles of a row of books, she was startled by the
sound of even breathing.
Ten Brok had not expected his bride so soon; the
day was warm and enervating; the reclining-chair in
which he sat was tipped at just the right angle—in
short, the bridegroom of three hours had been guilty of
the desperately unromantic act of falling sound asleep.
Virginia cautiously approached and looked at him
curiously, her husband—her lord and master—with a
mixture of awe and curiosity, for this man she had
married was almost a stranger to her. She saw a
stoutly built figure of about medium height, with small,
well-shaped hands and feet; close-cropped hair of a dark
brown color; a high forehead; smoothly shaven face,
creased around the mouth, which was full and volup-
tuous in outline and somewhat hard and cold in expres-
sion, and a powerful jaw, dogged and determined.
Virginia tried to imagine that it would be nice to kneel
beside his chair and wake him by nestling her head
against his shoulder; but the idea only gave her a
quaver of alarm and the desire to fly in the opposite
direction; so she concluded to select a book from the
library and go back to her room, leaving her lord to
wake when he might. Just at that moment her eyes
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
211
fell on a dirty, dog-eared pamphlet lying upon a small
table at her side, from the cover of which looked up at
her a face which sent the quick blood from her heart
to her face and then back again, leaving her very pale;
a face she had not seen since the eventful, too-sweet-
to-be-remembered afternoon of her last day at Crags-
kill.
As soon as Virginia's eyes fell upon the picture they
became glued to it, as it were, and unable to remove
themselves. She saw a perfectly oval face endowed
with the power and serenity of a Greek god ; the
forehead broad and full; the soulful, expressive eyes
under almost straight brows; the determined, some-
what prominent nose, and the mouth, sweet and yet
firm, showing itself a little under the full mustache.
She had not known until that moment how desperately
hungry she had been all those weary months for a sight
of that face; now, despite all that had occurred, she felt
soothed and comforted by it.
The pamphlet, she vaguely inferred, was a volume
of sermons—what other book would be likely to bear
the portrait of the rector of St. John's? Taking up
the little book she opened it and looking at the title-
page read these words:
A COMPLETE REPORT OF THE PROCEEDINGS
IN THE TRIAL OF
THE REVEREND DEMETRIUS NEWCASTLE
FOR THE MURDER OF
SYLVANUS HARDINAGE.
Some natures which wear themselves out and lose
all courage in a long suspense, are capable of strength
and action in an emergency. Virginia belonged to this
type. She stood clutching the table a few minutes;
then the reeling walls steadied themselves, the chairs
paused in their fantastic gambols and settled down
212
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
quietly, while the bannisters, visible through the open
door,, stopped sliding endlessly down into nothing and
became stationary.
She still clutched the book; her one desire now was
to read it from cover to cover undisturbed. She glanced
at her husband; he still slept quietly. She moved to
the door, her kid slippers making no sound, but the
swish of her silken draperies seemed to her to fill the
room. One more startled look backward—Ten Brok
had not moved; he slept on. Then there was a quick
flight up the broad staircase—a hurried dart into her
apartments—a click of the key in the lock, and Vir-
ginia Ten Brok was alone with her own thoughts, and
—the book!
The astonishment with which she began the history
grew upon her as she proceeded. She noted every
point as the testimony opened up the case, which
seemed from the standpoint of the law one complete
chain of damning evidence; yet she knew he wasinno-
cent; and not only that—a word from him as to her
presence with him from four o'clock that fatal afternoon
until half past six would have saved him. Why had he
not spoken ? She was with him at the time the
murder had been committed; yet he had allowed the
curious network of circumstantial evidence to be drawn
around him and given no sign. Perhaps—oh, terrible
thought! he had expected her to come forward of her
own accord and make the statement; and as she had
not done so had remained proudly silent rather than
tell a story derogatory to her reputation. He was not
married, that was certain, for he had been under ar-
rest from the day she left Cragskill until the present
time; perhaps he had written and his letter never
reached her—perhaps her letters had never reached
him!
"What does it mean? The American newspapers
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
213
—why—why did they never reach Moniquira—or even
Bogota ? Why were they kept from me ? she thought,
a new and horrible suspicion bursting upon her.  The
English papers came at intervals—but at times even
they were mutilated. O mother! mother! 
Then she slid from her chair prone upon the Ax-
minster daisies—not fainting, for even that boon was
denied her—but struggling with the agony of her
thoughts.
"What shall I do—what shall I do, she whispered,
sitting up at last and clasping her hands around her
knees. "Let me think—let me think—what must I
do? I must tell somebody—quick, before it is too late.
Thank God—before it is too late! There is time. I
must tell a lawyer. Yes, that's the thing to do. Then
he will make out some legal documents and I shall
swear to things and Demetrius will be free. O De-
metrius! Demetrius! And I am married! I can't
see him. Just as soon as he is free I'll beg Ten Brok
to take me somewhere—across the water—anywhere!
For I m married. I'll forget him when I'm gone
away—and perhaps—some time—somewhere—God'll
let me love my husband—he is good and kind.
A knock sounded on the door. Virginia sprang up,
pushed the hair out of her eyes, and going to the door
threw it open. She had expected to see Ten Brok, but
it proved to be Asunta. The two women looked at
each other strangely; then Virginia suddenly thrust
the pamphlet into the elder woman's hand and with-
out a word moved rapidly down the corridor.
"Stop—where are you going? cried the Indian
woman.
"To speak with my husband, replied Virginia,
without looking back.
"Wait—come back!  warned Asunta, but she might
as well have spoken to Niagara. Before the words
214
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
were well out of her mouth Virginia Ten Brok was al-
most at the bottom of the long winding staircase, and
in another moment was standing in the library door
confronting her husband.
Ten Brok had just awakened, and his first thought
was that he was glad he had done just as he did,
and that his bride had not caught him napping on the
first day of their honeymoon. His next idea was of an
entirely different character; for it needed but one
look at Virginia to warn him that he was on the eve of
an extraordinary occurrence.
Ten Brok did not like extraordinary occurrences—
he thought they were a bore. He always remained
coldly passive on such occasions until the worst was
over. He therefore checked himself in his first im-
pulse to take his bride in his arms and merely said,
 Ah, dearest ?  and awaited further developments.
They came.  I have something to tell you—some-
thing to say, she said breathlessly.
"Yes, darling. Pray sit down.
Virginia sank into a chair facing her husband, who
seated himself again as soon as she had done so.
"You have heard—you have read about the trial of
Demetrius Newcastle for murder ?
"Certainly—I fancy few people on this continent
have remained in ignorance of it. Usually I don't pay
any attention to those sort of things—they bore me,
don't you know—but this Newcastle seems to have
been a gentleman—is well connected, I believe.
 Yes, said Virginia, '' and he is innocent.
 How do you know ? 
"I was with him when the murder was committed.
"You knew this man—Newcastle ? inquired Ten
Brok.
"Yes—at Cragskill, just before I went to Moni-
quira.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
215
"Ah!—I fancied you said you were at a seminary
somewhere in New England.
 That was before I went to Cragskill.
Ten Brok looked at her intently; he had not changed
his position since the beginning of their conversation,
but his face had assumed a new expression.
"You say you were with this man at the time that
the crime was committed?
"I was.
"Where were you ? 
"We were in an—an old tomb, stammered Vir-
ginia, growing scarlet. "In a burial vault belonging
to his family  she was about to mention the treas-
ure when her husband broke in.
"Iam familiar with the place. There have been
cuts of it from various standpoints in every newspaper
in the United States. At what time did you visit this
place ?
"It was, I think, about four o'clock in the after-
noon.
 How long did you stay ? 
 Until six.
"It must have been an interesting place to spend two
hours—a burial vault in a dreary day in November.
Who went with you ? 
"I went alone, said Virginia in almost a whisper.
The agitation with which she had entered the room
was beginning to be replaced by a peculiar torpor, in
which she found it difficult to speak naturally.
 You met this Newcastle there ? 
"Yes.
"But you could not have been there all the time
from four to six.
 I was.
"Nevertheless, four or five reliable witnesses swore
on the stand that they entered the place at quarter to
2i6
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
five, and that it was untenanted save by the rector.
 But I was there.
 Where were you ? 
Virginia clasped her hands tightly. Her lips opened
as if to speak and her eyes met his with the fascinated
gaze of a bird charmed by a snake.
"Speak! Where were you? exclaimed Ten Brok,
sternly.
"I was in an empty coffin.
In spite of his self-possession, the Hollander started
convulsively; then he fell back in his chair and the
blood receded from his face. In the interim that fol-
lowed, the ticking of the big Dutch clock in the hall
sounded loudly. Virginia wished to rise—to cry out—
to say something to break that awful silence and take
that look away from her husband's face; but as though
held by something invisible, she could only sit cold,
rigid, and speechless. After perhaps two or three min-
utes Ten Brok sat upright in his chair, rested his
elbows on its arms, and his face assumed its natural ex-
pression, which was that of an impenetrable reserve.
 Why did you get into the coffin? he inquired.
"Mr. Newcastle hid me when the other people came.
You know there's so much gossip in a country town.
"Quite right. He showed great presence of mind.
When you left the tomb did he go with you?
"Yes; he took me to my aunt's.
 Direct?
"Yes—Oh, that is, by a roundabout way.
 You went direct by a roundabout. Good! said
Ten Brok, grimly. "And now, why did you not tell
me this little story before?
 I didn't like to think about it.
This ingenuous remark apparently put the finishing
touch to her husband's accumulating displeasure. "I
don't blame you for that, he said, looking at her, a
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
217
gleam of rage in his pale gray eyes.  But having kept
your secret so perfectly thus far, why did you tell me at
all ? Why not let the illusion last a little longer?
 If there has been an illusion it was not my fault; I
never professed anything I did not feel. But surely
you can see that it is my duty to make a statement that
will save Mr. Newcastle—and at once. There are only
five days more.
 Why did you not do so before?
 I did not know about the murder or the trial until
to-day.
 And you propose to make such a statement to the
world as you have just made to me?
"To the world—no. To a lawyer—to the lawyers
that defended him at the trial, I suppose, suggested
Virginia, with a sudden inspiration.
"You loved this man? asked Ten Brok, though
there was a note of quiet affirmation in his voice.
Virginia looked up.  Yes, she said in a whisper,
"I did, and he was worthy of it. If he had stated
at the trial that I was with him that afternoon it would
have saved him, together with my testimony, but he
has kept silent even in the face of death—an ignomin-
ious death—for my sake. Who coigld know a nature
like that and not love it ? 
"He is a gentleman, I will admit that, said Ten
Brok,  though I must say his chivalry is somewhat in
advance of what mine would be were I in his position.
Why did he not marry you ?—But no! Pray don't re-
late the story. Those instances have a singularly mo-
notonous ending. The man is always desperately anxious
to marry the girl, but—something prevents! 
"What do you mean ?  cried Virginia, coloring.
Ten Brok laughed mirthlessly.  God in Heaven! 
he muttered half under his breath, '' and I thought I was
marrying an innocent little schoolgirl—a pretty baby!
2l8
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
Pray don't get excited, he went on more calmly, as
she rose with flashing, indignant eyes, trying to speak.
"This is a horribly nasty affair, you know, and we
might as well look it in the face. You say you are in-
nocent. Quite right, I would put it that way if I were
you. One couldn't do otherwise in your position, don't
you know ? One fact is evident, you married me with
this—ah—dissimulation (I won't speak of a lie in con-
nection with a lady) on your mind, and you only men-
tion it now in order to save your lover's life. Very
well! You are now my wife before the world, our in-
terests are mutual. The past shall from this time
be forgiven and forgotten and will never be mentioned
again between us. But as for this man, he shall die! 
"And do you think I shall forgive your unjust sus-
picions—your cruelty 
"Madame, it is not my fault if you have been un-
wise. All I can do now is to shield you and myself
from the consequences of your own folly. If your
sense of justice were very keen, it would teach you that
a woman owes something to the man she has married
as well as to a former lover. My name is well known
on two continents—an honorable name allied to some
of the best blood of Europe. I have given it to you—
you, the daughter of a schemer and adventurer 
"Mr. Ten Brok ! 
"Quite so—it was bad form. But as I was say-
ing, you've been entitled to my name scarce three
hours before you come to me with a proposition that it
shall be dragged into criminal-court proceedings in a
connection that would brand you with a most unenvi-
able reputation. Socially ever after you would be
worse than dead; every door would be closed against
you, or should you even have entree into society the
stain would cling to you and never be forgotten. No,
I will no-taocuse you; let us presume that my credulity
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
219
is so large and my knowledge of the world so small that
I can readily believe that it is quite correct for a young
lady to call on a handsome young clergyman with whom
she is in love, at an old tomb that had been closed
almost a hundred years, and remain two hours on a
freezing autumn day, hiding in an empty coffin to
avoid detection; let us imagine, I say, that I believe it
is correct and innocent. Do you think the world at
large will second my opinion? Do you fancy I will
have my name under bad newspaper cuts of you circu-
lated in every town and city in the United States, not
to mention the cables sent to Europe? For your posi-
tion as my wife would give you a thousand times more
notoriety than you would have had as Virginia Lamar;
you would ruin not only yourself, but me. I give you
these points plainly and frankly. You have married
me, and me you shall consider and obey; you cannot
serve two masters! 
During this rapidly uttered speech she who was now
Mrs. Ten Brok stood white as snow and as still as
though turned to stone. It was the touch of worldly
wisdom and of justice in it that frightened, horrified
her. She had fancied herself the victim of untoward
circumstances over which she had no control, and had
not been without self-pity ever since she had discovered
the awful truth. Now she seemed to herself, as it were,
a designing woman whom the world could not respect
could it but know her as she was; who had deceived her
husband by not telling him the story of her first love-
affair. She regretted now her silence, and was not with-
out a sense of guilt concerning it. She fell upon her
knees beside her husband's chair and laid her cheek
against his hand.
"Oh, forgive me that I did not tell you, she whis-
pered. "I was so miserable; I was so unhappy. For-
give me that I married you. Other women marry for
220
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
worldly reasons, and you never asked me if I loved
you. I thought you wanted me because I was like your
wife who died. I was reckless—I didn't care what be-
came of me. But if you'll only help me to save Deme-
trius, I will love you better than I ever did him—I
promise it. What do we care about the world? We
can go away somewhere and have a little world all by
ourselves, and I'll make you so happy that people shall
envy you your wife in spite of all the bad things that
have been said about her. And I won't see Demetrius
—Mr. Newcastle—not once. I won't think about him.
Mr. Ten Brok—Theodore—dearest, promise me to
give your consent. Why don't you say something?
Why, we couldn't let him die—you didn't mean it!
You couldn't sleep nights for the horror of it. I
should go mad or die. I don't want to think that you
could mean it! 
 I certainly do mean it, replied Ten Brok obsti-
nately. "You shall never make me ridiculous before
the world by that infamous story.
Virginia came to her feet, and all the softness went
suddenly out of her face. tShe moved toward the door,
and on reaching it looked back. For one dreadful
instant it seemed to Ten Brok that his dead wife ap-
pealed to him through Virginia's eyes.  Some day you
may plead for mercy as I do now for justice, she cried.
 Very well, I am content to wait for that day.
"Then you may wait alone.
"Ah!—where are you going? asked Ten Brok,
coming toward her.
 I am going away—where I go does not concern
you, for I shall never see you again.
"You make a mistake—believe me. You will not
leave this house.
 Who will prevent me ?  asked Virginia scornfully.
"Would you make me a prisoner ? 
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
22 1
"I might under sufficient provocation. Understand
me, I am a bad man to trifle with. Do not make me
desperate, for your own good. I always accomplish
what I undertake, and I will go to any length in this
matter to carry out my will. Pray be careful; I beg
you not to drive me to extremities!
 What! you threaten me—oh shame! And pray what
could you do? You would not dare to kill me! 
 You are such a child, said Ten Brok, looking at
her dispassionately. "1 never use vulgar methods—I
am a gentleman. Did you ever hear of certain private
asylums, behind whose bars people spend their lives
who will not be guided by reason ? It would be fright-
fully monotonous, don't you know—a prescribed walk
in the grounds every day, your little whims humored,
and your bad breaks punished with solitary connne-
ment, your extraordinary statements of why you are
there listened to with a show of polite attention or not
heard at all—you wouldn't fancy it, would you ?
Frightful bore—I trust a better fate awaits you. That
rests quite with you, you understand. But if you try
to thwart my wishes, do not look for mercy or forgive-
ness.
Virginia passed through the door. "From this
time, whether I am under your roof or not, you may
consider me a stranger, she said.
 Please yourself about that—for the present, said
the Hollander, adjusting his collar and pulling down
his waistcoat with a little jerk as he walked to the
window.
Virginia found Asunta in her apartment, smoking
quietly. "What did he say? she asked, putting
down the history of the trial, which she had just pe-
rused.
"He says 1 ^annot serve two masters, cried the
girl, with a burst of hysterical laughter.
222
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"He said that to you, did he? Foolish one, why
did you tell him ? I saw by your face as you started
down-stairs that you were on the brink of something
mad and called to you to come back.
 How could I do otherwise than tell him ? 
 How ? You could have been seized by an uncon-
trollable desire to see your dear parents before they
sailed. He would have humored any whim—two hours
ago. Once in New York—but what use to speak of it
now? Tell me what he said—tell me the worst, for
that includes the other.
Virginia told the result of her conference with her
husband in few words as possible.  I wasn't mis-
taken in the man, she said thoughtfully. "I knew
him for what he was at Moniquira.
. "I know—you warned me. Why don't you say 'I
told you so ' or something mean ?  moaned Virginia.
"I never waste my time over little vices, said
AsQnta.  It takes a great deal of depravity to make
up for the loss of a little goodness; therefore, if you
contemplate anything bad, do it big or not at all.
But come, my heart, why do you despair ? We have a
great advantage in our locality. The good God must
have sent us here by the side of this great lake, where
boats are constantly passing, some of which will take
us to the other side for money.
"Hush! cried Virginia, starting, for there was a
knock at the door.  Come in!  she said, rising from
the divan where she had thrown herself. She expected
to see Ten Brok, but it was Victor, his valet, who ap-
peared.
He bowed low, and said:  Monsieur presents com-
piiments to Madame, and begs to say that he will ac-
company her to St. Therese de Blainville'on the train
leaving Burlington at 8.10.
 St. Therese de Blainville!  echoed Virginia in con-
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA
223
sternation; then, recovering herself, she said haughtily:
Madame sends adieux to Monsieur, and wishes him
a pleasant journey to St. Therese de Blainville. She
herself is content with the White Birches, where she
will remain for the present.
"Are you mad ? Retract that message instantly,
whispered Asunta the instant the door closed after the
valet.
Virginia flew to the door, opened it calmly, and was
just in time to see Victor turn his back hastily upon it,
that particular locality evidently having attractions for
his curious ears.
 There is no message for Monsieur—you under-
stand, Victor ? she said.
The young Frenchman faced about, bowed elabo-
rately, and said,  Yes, madame.
 Only this: Madame desires dinner for herself and
Senora Ysquibel sent to her apartments this evening.
 Yes, madame.
 That is all.
 Yes, madame.
 Why did you tell me to do that ? asked Virginia
as she re-entered the room.
 Foolish one, it isn't your turn to play now. We are
not in a position now to drive him to the worst. Leave
it all to me; make no move without my knowledge,
and, see, I give you my good right hand that the padre
shall yet preach a thousand Sunday sermons.
At half-past six a delicious repast was spread for
Virginia and her companion by a couple of astonished
servants, who had already surmised that there was a
breach between the newly married pair. When all was
in readiness Virginia dismissed them both, saying she
would ring when they were needed.  It looks tempt-
ing, but I am almost afraid to touch it, she said to
Asunta.  It maybe drugged or poisoned.
224
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"Have no fear, replied Asunta; "he has already
shown his hand and we know pretty well what he
intends to do. He will remove us to some spot where
escape will be less easy. That is why I would not let
you defy him—he would only have planned something
perhaps even more difficult to surmount, besides being
unexpected to us. It is good to know the enemy's
line of march. Whether we three—you, Ten Brok,
and I—ever all get to St. Therese de Blainville or not,
or indeed, any of us, I am not at all sure. I once
heard a distinguished American relate a funny little
rhyme about two cats of Kilkenny. But at all events
we will make the start as if we intended to go.
At half-past seven Virginia, seeing the coachman at
the door, came down in traveling costume. Ten Brok
met her at the foot of the stairs, and, with elaborate
politeness, escorted her to the carriage, sprang in after
her and closed the door.
"Where is Asunta ?  asked the girl, looking about
in a kind of terror.
 She will follow in another carriage.
"I want her with me.
Ten Brok flung open the carriage door and gave the
order with some asperity. Asunta, in black and veiled,
glided in and sat down on the opposite seat where
Virginia instantly joined her. The carriage moved on.
Where was St. Therese de Blainville ? What was it ?
These questions Virginia pondered silently on the way
to the station as she sat holding Asunta's hand tightly
and watching her husband's face in the flicker of the
carriage lamps—pale but inexorable.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
CHAPTER XVI.
"fascinate him ! fascinate him !
At 8:io the travelers boarded an express train
bound for the north, and a few hours later arrived in
Montreal. Here they changed cars, and an hour after
stopped at a small station, where a carriage awaited
them, Ten Brok having evidently telegraphed in ad-
vance. There was no moon and the darkness was so
opaque that it was impossible to form any idea through
what manner of country they were going. During the
whole journey the most absolute silence had been main-
tained, and any one seeing the party would have little
guessed that two of its members had been wedded con-
siderably less than twenty-four hours.
As they proceeded, the traveling grew worse and
worse, the roads having apparently been damaged by
spring freshets. At times they heard the moaning of
the wind in pine forests, which suggested the idea
of a somewhat wild section of country; at other
times the barking of dogs, as they rattled through the
silent streets, gave evidence that they were passing
through a settlement.
At last in the gray dawn they stopped. Victor
alighted and opened a high iron gate and they entered
a driveway, up which they proceeded a considerable
distance. Again they stopped, and after sounding a
knockei repeatedly a gleam of light was discerned
and an elderly man appeared at the door. Ten Brok
left the carriage, and after a short conversation with
him aside, assisted Virginia and Asunta into the house.
Here a woman, half dressed and with a kerchief about
her head, conducted the two women to a big, barn-like
226
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
room above, containing an old-fashioned curtained
couch, a few chairs, and other plain furnshings, and
putting down the candle with which she had lighted
them up, departed.
Overpowered with fatigue Virginia did not waken
until late the next day. Asunta was smoking by the
open window, for the day was fine; and soon after they
were partaking of quite a comfortable breakfast brought
up by the old woman they had seen the night before.
Having now opportunity to observe their new sur-
roundings, they walked out into the grounds, which
were extensive. The man who had given them admit-
tance the night before followed them about under pre-
tense of showing them the place, and in answer to their
inquiries informed them that they were at the Chateau
Globenski, which had been built by a Polish gentleman.
It had passed into the hands of Ten Brok's father as a
debt; the present Mr. Ten Brok came there but sel-
dom. The last time he had been there he came with a
few other gentlemen on a hunting expedition. The
house was kept open, as it were, in order to accommo-
date him and his gentlemen friends whenever they
cared to come. There had not been a woman in the
house, except the servants, to his knowledge for fif-
teen years. Yes, there was an iron fence all around
the grounds; in one or two places it needed repair. It
was seven miles from a railroad station, and the house
was not situated on the highway. A lane nearly a mile
long led up to it. Consequently there were no passersby.
"Well, I think we have got our bearings, said
Asunta cheerfully, as they went back to the house.
"You observed the man did not leave us for a mo-
ment. He has been instructed to watch us.
"Have you any plans formed ? I saw a peculiar
look on your face this morning as you sat smoking that
inspired me with hope.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
227
 I have three plans; if one fails we can adopt the
next. We will take the easiest first, and let Ten Brok
beware that he doesn't wind us up to horrid deeds.
'' Name the first one! 
 This it is: You must make love to him.
 Never!  cried Virginia, with a gesture of aversion.
"Will you not ? 
"It would do no good. I believe he hates me.
"So much the better. Hate is only love turned
sour; indifference is death.
Virginia walked restlessly up and down the room.
 Very well, she said at last. "Plan anything you like
and I will do the best I can.
Early in the afternoon, therefore, after a short con-
sultation between them, Virginia rang and sent for
Victor, who came immediately, obsequious as ever.
 Take this message, "said the young lady.  Madame's
compliments to Monsieur, and desires to know if she
may have the pleasure of dining with him this evening.
"Yes, madame! Victor departed and returned
after a few minutes with an answer. "Monsieur's
compliments to Madame, and it will give him joy to
have Madame's company at dinner at seven o'clock.
"And now, said Asunta,  for the costume! 
For Virginia's trunks, not having been all unpacked
at the White Birches, had been brought on to the
chateau, and they had arrived from the station during
the day.
At half past six a dainty creature, all in palest yel-
low from corsage down to the tips of her little kid slip-
pers, stood before the mirror regarding herself with
big serious brown eyes. Her beautiful bare neck and
arms emerged from a billowy, silky mass of soft fabric
which outlined the graceful contour of her girlish fig-
ure; her cheeks, slightly tinged with excitement, wore
the exquisite hue of a blush rose; her curly, jet black
228
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
hair brushed back, rebelled and nestled in wavy little
rings on her temples.
'' Don't go down till after seven, said Asunta. '' Keep
him waiting. You know there are two classes of peo-
pie upon the earth; one that is always late and keeps
folks waiting and is loved and appreciated. The other
that is always punctual and considerate of others and
is thought very little of.
Virginia waited till quarter past seven. Asunta fol-
lowed her to the door. "Fascinate him ! fascinate
him ! fascinate him !  she whispered.
Ten Brok was waiting when she reached the dining-
room, standing beside the hearth where a light fire of
pine wood sent pleasant odors into the room, for the
evenings were chilly, his elbow on the mantel, when
Virginia entered—a burst of yellow sunshine in that
dark, gloomy old apartment. For she had all the aid
of a vivid contrast between herself and her surround-
ings, which Asunta had foreseen when she chose the
costume.
Virginia swept in with easy insouciance, pausing just
long enough at the door to give her entrance dramatic
effect, as well as a little touch of modesty; though in
reality she hesitated on account of a sense of contrac-
tion about the heart, which her husband's presence
had given her from the first of their acquaintance.
Ten Brok came to meet her with punctilious polite-
ness.  I hope you find your apartments comfortable,
he said stiffly, as he led her toward the fireplace.
"Perfectly so. What an interesting old house!
She sighed, and put out the sweetest little foot in
yellow-silk hosiery and kid slipper to warm before the
blaze. "Last night I was out of temper with the
whole place, but to-day I see possibilities in it.
"Ah! said Ten Brok, looking at her warily. He
was puzzled, and afraid of some trick, He believed,
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
229
however, that, frightened at the threats he had made
the night before, and by this sudden remove to a
remote and wild location, she had determined to yield
to his wishes. Having once decided thus, she would
of course yield gracefully. However, he resolved to
be on his guard. He was even willing to punish her a
little by coldness, at first. Therefore he was taciturn
over the soup, reserved during the fish, and only met
her advances half-way when the game came on. But
after a couple of glasses of champagne he began to
thaw perceptibly, and by the time they were lingering
over the coffee he was laughing heartily over some
droll anecdotes she was relating. For Virginia made
no attempt at sentiment; she simply acted the part of
a good comrade, frankly droll and ingenuously amusing.
This brought out some of Ten Brok's best character-
istics. He fell into a discussion with her over the dif-
ferent habits and customs of the people of various
countries in eating and drinking, and which nationality
had the best taste in cuisine. This reminded Virginia
of a learned Frenchman who had once made a tour of
the United States in order to write a book upon his
impressions of the people, and who had taken her in
to dinner at her Aunt Maxwell's. 111 once spent a few
days at a small New England town called Connecticut,
he had said. "I think that was the name. There
are very weird people there. They eat thin pumpkin
pie for breakfast, drink ice-water and never say any-
thing.
"A true historian, said Ten Brok.  A few thou-
sand years from now he will be considered a rival of
Herodotus.
 What's that ?  asked Virginia, suddenly, as a low,
moaning cry came faintly to them.
 Nothing but the wind. A storm is rising, said
Ten Brok.
230
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"Are you fond of this place? 
"Not particularly. I've been here very little,
except on shooting parties, replied her husband,
coolly.
"I hope you will provide a few good horses. I shall
grow very restive if I'm here a great while. What are
you going to do to amuse me? Is this your idea of
entertainment ? Shall you not invite a few people
here ?  Virginia rattled on from one thing to another,
impelled to it by a sort of reckless excitement. Her
eyes shone like stars, and there were patches of red on
her cheeks like daubs of paint.
"I intend to take you abroad before a great while,
said Ten Brok.
Virginia's heart sank within her; but she was spurred
on to further dissimulation. "Ah, how nice, she
exclaimed joyously. "You knew I wanted to go
abroad. It's always been my dream. Now I'm going
—going! But when?
"In a couple of weeks—perhaps sooner.
 How good you are! Aren't you a smoker? Don't
deny yourself on my account, said Virginia, as the
servant brought antique bowls of perfumed water.
"I don't smoke, answered Ten Brok. He offered
her his arm, and they repaired to the big, dark wains-
coted drawing-room, lighted with candelabra.
"Ah! how quaint, how dismal! exclaimed Mrs.
Ten Brok.  Let's look at the ancestors of the Polish
gentleman—what is his name—Globenski? Are they
not ugly? Don't you hate them? They glare at us as
if they knew we were intruders. I suppose they were
considered great beauties in their day. Have you never
read biographies of the ancients, in which they were
extolled as of such fine personal appearance and noble
bearing that they were worshiped as gods ?—see fron-
tispiece. And you look at the frontispiece, and there
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
231
is a horribly grotesque face with a fish-hawk nose, and
you close the book suddenly, and hope you won't lie
awake nights and think about it. Come; let us
explore further. These Polish nobles make me
chilly.
They passed into the next room, which proved to be
a library.
"Are these Polish books? Will you teach me to
read Polish? What! an educated gentleman, and not
know Polish ? Why wasn't I told of this sooner ?
But stay. Here are musical instruments. What is
this—a mandolin ? 
"No, a rubec, replied Ten Brok. "It is very
old.
Virginia touched the strings, which gave forth a
wheezy sound. She put it dovm. "It sounds too
much like the wind in the chimney, she remarked.
 Ah! here is a harp. This isn't so bad.
 Do you play the harp ?
 I play it nicely, said Virginia, with the air of a
spoiled child. "I also dance. You've never seen me
dance ?
 Oh, yes, I saw you waltz with Margot at Moni-
quira.
 That was only a common dance. She caught up
her full yellow skirt and took a few steps. Her eyes
grew dreamy; she seemed to have forgotten her hus-
band's presence. Then warming up to the enjoy-
ment of it she threw her train over her arm and for
ten minutes at least she obeyed Asunta's parting in-
junction.
For it was indeed a weaving of spells such as Vivian
used to subjugate the wise Merlin. There was a certain
prudery about Ten Brok's nature which had rendered a
great enjoyment of the ballet impossible to him. But
this dance depended not upon gymnastic feats for its
232
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
charm, but simply and purely on the grace of anexquis-
itely graceful body. In all its freedom it had a certain
modesty like the motions of a bird in the air. Ten Brok
felt his soul being drawn through his eyes. He
trembled.
 Of course it is prettier with music, observed Vir-
ginia, coming to him and resting her hand on the small
table beside which he sat.
Ten Brok looked at her, and felt an imperative de-
sire to touch the plump, tapering fingers so near him.
Yielding to the temptation he deliberately placed his
hand over hers, experiencing as he did so that exquisite
rapture which comes to him who fights against love,
and yet is conquered by it.
"What else can I do to amuse you ? Shall I sing ?''
asked Virginia.
Ten Brok bowed, relinquishing her hand reluctantly.
She crossed the room and sat down beside the harp,
touching the chcrds affectionately. Then she began to
sing in a pure, sweet, but hushed contralto, the little
love-song which ends :
He touched me! what occult magic,
That touch so simple bore.
Oh, surely, my hand, my heart, my soul,
You were never touched before!
Rising from the harp Virginia came to her husband
and held out her hand.  And now 
"And now—what now? demanded Ten Brok,
rising.
"Goodnight! She drew away from him with a
low obeisance.
 No, let there be no more good nights between us! 
Instead of taking her hand he held out his arms to
her. "Virginia! Virginia! Virginia! he whispered
passionately. The next moment she was crushed
against his breast, and his first kisses were on her hands
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA. 233
and eyes and mouth.  Is not love better than war? 
"Yes: but is my love worthless?
"No, priceless. What will you have, my Salome,
the head of John the Baptist? 
 No! The life of Demetrius Newcastle!  she said,
tremblingly, looking up at him.
Suddenly she saw her husband's face change as
though he were stricken with a deadly malady; then
she was seized with cruel relentless hands and shaken
as only a mad, blind, passionate, unreasoning rage
could do it.
"So all this is for him, is it? All these artless
graces, this engaging sentiment! How dare you mention
that man to me? Listen! If by any chance he shall
escape the law, I myself will kill him.
Dizzy, breathless, reeling, with livid marks on her
arms where his strong fingers had clutched her, but with
an indignation that conquered fear, Virginia somehow
escaped and reached the door. Here she paused, con-
fronted him an instant with a contempt and defiance
that surpassed his own, then she was gone.
The silent protest had been more effective than words.
As soon as he was alone Ten Brok stood motionless
and dazed, his face changing like one whose senses re-
turn slowly after a period of unconsciousness.
Then glancing down he saw partially under his foot
a bit of yellow silk that had been wrenched from his
wife's gown in her struggle to escape from him.
He picked it up, put it to his lips as if to kiss it—
gnashed at it with his teeth and flung it in the fire.
that girl from bogota.
CHAPTER XVII.
a honeymoon elopement.
In the room above, Virginia found Asunta sitting
near the embers of a dying fire. She rose and ap-
proached the girl with inquiring eyes, noting the
bruises on her arms with a peculiar expression of the
eyes and movement of the mouth, though no words
came.
"I don't mind that—but—he kissed me!  said Vir-
ginia, moving away with lowered eyelids. "Asunta,
never tell me to do anything like that again. I de-
served all I got. Henceforth I shall make no pre-
tenses.
"You quarreled ? 
 Yes. He hates me now in good earnest. I hardly
respect myself. But, Asunta, what shall we do ?
There are only four more days. Can we not escape ?
Tell me what to de before I go mad! 
"There are a thousand ways; but I can only think
of one that would be certainly effective.
"What is it ?  whispered the girl, coming to her.
 I will kill him ! 
 What!  Virginia fell back a step and shuddered.
 Don't talk like that—now—it's dangerous.
 Why not ?  asked the Indian woman, coolly. "I
have a bit of dried shrub, tasteless and perfectly harm-
less.
 Harmless ?
"To the one who administers it, yes. It steals into
the blood as quickly and imperceptibly as alcohol. It
cannot be detected afterward.
The two women stood looking at one another; the
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
235
Indian calm and unmoved, Virginia breathing in quick
uneven gasps, while she pressed one hand hard over
her heart.
"You speak as if you were—in earnest, Asunta,
said the girl at last, speaking with difficulty.  That's
■—that's what makes it all seem so frightful.
"Iam in earnest, replied Asunta. "Why not!
See here, it has come to this, one of these two men has
got to die. If it were me I would save the man I loved
alive and kill the other! 
"Asunta, you are a devil! cried Virginia. She
turned quite pale and grasped the back of a chair
for support. A moment later she walked unevenly out
of one of the low French windows upon the balcony and
sank down upon her knees beside the iron railing, over
which a profusion of neglected vines were straggling.
It was the cruel logic of the words she had just listened
to that so unnerved her. Was it not excusable to com-
mit one crime in order to avert another and much
worse one? How could she let the man die an igno-
minious death who had so completely sacrificed himself
to save her good name—not merely yielding up his life,
but his honor, his reputation, his all ? Why not save
the man she loved alive, and kill the other ?
And all the time with that strange dual conscious-
ness which is sometimes realized in great crises, she
was thinking how thin the veneer of morality lay over
the human race. She who a few days before would
have hesitated to take the life of a worm, was planning
what? A crime?
 No—no, not that ! I must be going mad ; and
yet—Demetrius must not die! I cannot let him die.
Then she sought refuge in wild prayer as though she
daied not trust her thoughts their freedom.
Suddenly she became aware that Asunta was bending
over her. '' Come, she whispered. '' Victor is with-
236
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
in. Do not let him see your despair. Your lord has
sent a message.
She assisted Virginia to rise and put a few touches
to her tumbled hair. Virginia went to the window.
Victor was standing just within the door, and as his
eyes fell on her she was aware of a gleam of pity in
them. His voice sounded low and kind.
 Monsieur bids me say to Madame that a savage
bloodhound will hereafter be let loose in the grounds
after sundown, to guard the place, and he warns Madame
not to venture out without his knowledge.
Virginia, erect and haughty, though very pale, looked
at the valet with cold unconcern.  Madame is obliged
to Monsieur for his information about the dog, she
remarked.
When Victor had departed she turned to Asuntawith
wild eyes.  Do something—now—quick, she said.
 Don't you see I am going mad with the suspense of it?
There are only four days—four short days and nights
—and here we are imprisoned. Don't you know we
must do something at once?
 I will do anything you will agree to, said Asunta,
softly.  But now it is night—it is late—be calm for a
few hours more. Trust me, I will go to any extrem-
ity. The padre shall not die.
"Say that again, cried Virginia, sinking down upon
a couch near the fire. "Those are good words,
Asunta. He shall not die! She lay for a few min-
utes like one exhausted; then added softly: "I love
him so! Who could help returning a love so great, so
amazing, so divine? Oh, that is love itself that can
face death for months—a horrible, shameful death—
when to speak but a word against the good name of a
woman means life and honor!
After that she slept. Asunta drew a light cover-
ing over her; she stirred uneasily, murmuring:  Mon-
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
237
6ter! I will kill him! then sank into deeper slumber.
Late that night Virginia waking suddenly thought
she heard footsteps in the next room moving stealth-
ily. Springing up she went to the couch which Asunta
occupied in the same room with her, and found it un-
tenanted. Hastily striking a light she discerned the
Indian woman, fully dressed, and wearing a scarf over
her head, entering the room. Her eyes were luminous
and there was a strange, wild beauty in her face.
"Where are you going? asked Virginia.  Do you
know it is three o'clock? Then looking at her again
she added tremblingly,  What have you done?
 I have been in the grounds making friends with the
dog, answered the Ynca, tossing aside the scarf.
 How dared you?'
 I can always tame savage animals—it is a gift from
the good God, replied Asunta, piously.  The dog is
now mine; he will obey me. Just before I left him he
put his huge paws on my shoulders and kissed me on the
mouth in token of his allegiance. I took more pains
to make sure of him because of you.
 Oh, when shall we go?  murmured Virginia, joy-
ously throwing her arms around Asunta's neck.
 Why not now? 
"Very well, I will dress instantly.
 Bring your jewels and all the money you have,
but don't burden yourself with anything else, for we
have seven miles to walk.
Virginia arrayed herself in a dark traveling dress,
put what valuables she had with her in a small bag and
signified she was ready.
"The gate is locked, but there is a break in the
fence, said Asunta.  I suppose that is why the dog
was let loose. Now move softly.
They crept down the creaking stairs, and Asunta
noiselessly drew the bolts of the front door. They had
23S
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
not proceeded far when, with a bound, a large animal
was upon them. Asunta caught his collar, and bend-
ing down whispered in his ear, caressing him. Then
she led him to Virginia, and the brute licked her hand
with his big red tongue. But at that moment a small
terrier sprang out of his kennel and began a vigorous
barking. At a word from Asunta the great hound
bounded away in the "darkness, there was the dread-
ful sound of agonized yelps gradually dying away into
choking gasps—then silence.
"Now come quickly, said Asunta as they reached
the lane.
"I could run a thousand miles, said Virginia, joy-
ously. "Oh, how good it is to be free once more!
And she took a hop and a skip.
"Be quiet, foolish one, reprimanded the Indian
woman. "We have seven miles.
It was nearly five when two women, very much be-
draggled about the bottoms of their dresses, but ex-
hilarated with the success of their undertaking, came
to the little country station and took seats upon a
wooden settee on its platform.  The train is due in
ten minutes, said Asunta, glancing at her watch.
 How do you know? 
"Because I took a time-table from Ten Brok's
room when he was absent from it yesterday, replied
Asunta, coolly.
"If we can once get on the train—oh, what happi-
ness to feel one's self flying from this spot! 
"Never fear, we shall catch the train.
As she spoke a faint whistle was heard in the dis-
tance: it sounded like the sweetest music in the ears
of the waiting women. Then a faint, shrill singing
sound came along the iron rails; and a moment after
the big locomotive, \yith several freight cars and two
passenger carriages, approached and stopped. Thq
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
239
two passengers hurried aboard; the train started, and
was soon moving in the direction of Montreal.
Once within the train Virginia felt a reaction from
the excitement that had prompted her to hurry almost
breathlessly the seven miles to the station. She sank
back in her seat. "I'm so happy—so happy, she
whispered.
"You look ill, said Asunta, with concern.
 I shall be well again in a few minutes. Could you
get me a glass of water ?
Asunta left her and walked down to the further end
of the car, which was untenanted except for them-
selves. Before she returned with the water a gentle-
man came in from the opposite door and seated him-
self beside Virginia. Surprised at this familiarity from
a stranger, she turned haughtily upon him and recog-
nized her husband.
 It seems, after all, my dear, that we have tastes in
common, he said. "We both like traveling at night.
Virginia could no longer dissimulate. She sank back
against the window and her breath seemed to stop; but
with a strange fascination she could not take her eyes
from his face.
 I came near missing the train, went on Ten Brok
in a high, slightly rasping tone he always used when he
knew he was making himself disagreeable. "I had to
wait to kill the dog, you know.
"You killed the dog! repeated Virginia. Then
for the first time since the cruel strain had been upon
her nerves she gave way to tears.
"Certainly. He stood at the gate and disputed it
with me. So I was obliged to dispose of him—as I do
of all things that oppose my wishes. Then as her
sobs became hysterical and alarming, he added with
some show of feeling: "Pray don't distress your-
self. I will get you a score of dogs if you wish
240
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
them. Calm yourself. Can I do anything for you? 
"Yes, said Virginia, struggling for self-control.
"What?
 Leave me! 
Ten Brok rose, mechanically touched his hat, and
turning faced Asunta, who sat in the seat behind them
holding a glass of water, as calm and motionless as a
statue. The sight of her unfailing equanimity irritated
him at that moment as it had never done before. Bend-
ing toward her he said:
 You think you are doing Mrs. Ten Brok a favor
by encouraging her in this obstinacy. You are
wrong!
 I would rather be wrong than to be president,
said Asunta tranquilly. She raised her eyes to his as
she spoke—her wonderful, impenetrable eyes so power-
ful in repose. Something in their expression startled
him; for in their strange depths he read for the first
time a prophesy of his own impending doom.
"That woman is dangerous, he thought as he
seated himself in the rear part of the car. "When we
sail for Europe, Asunta, by a peculiar accident, will be
left behind.
At Montreal the party made a feint of breakfasting
at a hotel, and then Victor was deputed to hire an en-
tire car on the most rapid express leaving for the south
within the next few hours; and the same afternoon
Virginia, her husband, Asunta and Victor found them-
selves the sole occupants of a parlor-car, one door of
which was guarded by the valet, the other by Ten
Brok. The Hollander had already informed them that
they were en route for New York, from whence they
would the following morning embark for Europe.
Virginia had fallen into a sort of lethargy and sat
with her eyes closed, speaking to no one. She had
even motioned Asunta aside when she had tried to
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
241
comfort her, saying: "Don't despair—the battle is
ours.
 How can you tell ? 
 This morning, said Asunta, solemnly,  I saw be-
fore me an extended hand. Whose it is I know not,
but it will be sent for our deliverance.
She had scarcely finished speaking when the train
decreased its speed and finally came to a standstill.
Victor, who was sent out to learn the cause of the de-
lay, came back a few moment slater with the informa-
tion that a freight train with a load of coal had broken
down on the track. Without could be heard the
sound of workmen shoveling. Virginia grew restless,
and, beckoning to Victor, said: "Inform Monsieur
that I wish to walk beside the track near the train
while we are waiting.
 Monsieur is willing, provided Madame Ysquibel re-
mains in the car, replied Victor a few moments
later.
"Verywell, assented Virginia, and rose to go ex-
pecting to be followed by the valet; but instead her
husband assisted her down the steps and began to
promenade in an opposite direction from the one she
had taken, so that on each return trip they met and
passed each other. Virginia had really no hope of
escape at that time; but this little circumstance of con-
tinually meeting her husband robbed her exercise of all
its benefit. She therefore stopped beside the locomo-
tive and watched the busy toilers as they removed the
obstruction on the tracks with the vague stare of the
absent-minded. At that moment a voice at her elbow
said,  Miss Virginia! 
Virginia started and glanced about her; then looked
up. There in the cab, looking at her through the
small window, she saw a face that sent the blood to her
own with a great throb; for the engineer, who had just
242 THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
addressed her, was none other than Tim Farrell, whose
sick baby had died in her arms months before at Crags-
kill.
"Tim! Tim!  she whispered; then seeing her hus-
band approaching she added: "Don't pretend to
know me! How soon do you think we shall start, en-
gineer? she asked, as Ten Brok came within hearing
distance.
 I should say in less than half an hour, ma'am.
"Isn't there danger of collisions when a train is de-
tained like this!
 Sure. An express is due along this line before a
great while. But a messenger has been sent, post-
haste, to the nearest telegraph station.
 Oh, Tim! began Virginia, as Ten Brok's shapely
back receded down the track, "I am so glad to see
you. You know what you told me the last time I saw
you—that you'd do anything—anything for me—do you
remember, Tim?
"You can bet your life I do. And I mean it yet.
What's the trouble ? 
"I haven't time to explain it all. But, Tim, I am
in despair. Do you see that man walking down the
track ?
"Yes, miss. An aristocratic old duffer, ain't he ?
"Tim, he's my husband.
 You don't mean it ? 
 He is my husband—my jailer, and may yet be my
executioner. But he must not suspect that I know you.
Every time he comes this way we must change the
conversation and make it sound as if we were just talk-
ing about unimportant things. Do you understand ? I
suppose, engineer, she said, as Ten Brok neared them
on his return trip, "that you've been in some awful
accidents—at least you've seen them ? 
"Lord bless you, lady, said Tim easily, knocking
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
243
the ashes out of his pipe,  I should say I had. Beg-
ging your pardon,, miss, how would you like to be run-
ning at the rate of sixty miles an hour full tilt toward
a half-burned bridge—now go on, miss, what was you
saying ? 
"Tim, I am 1 prisoner on this train and a life de-
pends on my escaping from it before it reaches New
York. We are traveling on a special car. But it is
only locked and I am only closely watched at stations.
—Yes, it must have been terrible. What did you do
when you reached the bridge ? as Ten Brok paused
near them and took a look at the men who were shov-
eling the coal.
 I jumped. It wasn't my fault—I couldn't stop the
train and the glimpse of the burning bridge as we
swept around the curve was the first thing I knew about
it. Hurt, did you say, miss ? Well, I got off with a
broken leg that time.—Speak quick, they're gettin'
away with that coal like sixty. What can I do for you?
 I don't know, Tim—everything seems against me.
Can't you suggest something? Only get me off from
the train.
"Let me think. You're only watched at stations.
If you could jump off when the train was moving slow-
ly—I couldn't stop entirely, it would attract atten-
tion.
 I could—I would, cried Virginia fervently.
"Then midway between here and the next station
I'll slow up almost to a standstill. I'll warn you be-
forehand by one prolonged whistle and three short
ones.
 O Tim, God bless you! I knew you could help
me. Do you remember what you said—if there
came a time when the earth was iron and the sky was
brass and God had forgotten me? I never thought
such a time would come, but it has. Tim, if God will
244
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
remember me just this once, I don't care what He does
with me afterward—just this once 
"Never mind, you're all right, said Tim, sooth-
ingly. "I'll do anything on earth for you. Didn't
you hold my poor baby when he died—didn't you cry
about it afterward as if your heart would break? God
bless you, I'll see you through this scrape if I have to
run the train off an embankment or smash up the
whole railroad.
"Give me your hand just a moment—he's walking
from us, said Virginia. She held up her hand to the
cab window, and Tim, not without reluctance, extended
a very grimy one in return, touching the light-gloved
fingers gingerly as if it were a sacrilege. '' Well, I hope
you won't run us off from any half-burned bridges to-
day, she said carelessly, as her husband approached
them.
"No danger, lady; I know my business. Listen!
Just before I slow up, the long whistle and the short
ones—you remember? Wait until it's going dead
slow. I'll give you time. Don't jump against the
wind, as a woman always does. Jump toward the
engine. And be careful to jump on the right-hand
side of the car. On the other side there is a preci-
pice.
 Thank you, Tim. I'll remember. Wait till night-
fall if possible.
Virginia now moved away and after a few turns up
and down the track, returned to the car, where she
managed to inform Asunta of the plan to escape.
"Said I not so? said the Indian woman trium-
phantly. "When I hear the first signal I will ask if
you want your hair brushed for the night—that will
give us an excuse for leaving the car together.
 Very well.
Virginia now began to wait with nervous impatience
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
245
for the fall of night, under the cover cf which they
were to make a final effort at escape.
Once, exhausted by fatigue and worry she fell into a
troubled sleep, from which she suddenly wakened and
found her husband trying to insert a cushion under her
head. Raising her hand she pushed it silently away with
a look of passionate resentment. Ten Brok stood gaz-
ing at her without moving, for as she had slept he,
chancing to pass, was startled at the change less than
twenty-four hours had wrought in her. Virginia also
noted a marvelous difference in her husband. His
eyes were hollow his face drawn, though the prevail-
ing expression was one of haggard obstinacy.
"I suffer too, Virginia, he said at last.
 Thank God! 
lc Some day you will thank me for saving you from
yourself.
 It is useless to speak of that now. The time has
past for reconciliation. Even if you were to offer me
all I have begged of you, I would not accept it at your
hands!
"Ah! Well, I have had no intention of making
you any such offer, said Ten B:ok.  So your atti-
tude of mind is very fortunate for you.
He went back to his seat and taking up a newspaper
assumed an air of interest in its columns not altogether
successful.  Oh, thought Virginia,  why did I say
anything to irritate him further? Then lookingfrom
the car window she saw they were now traversing a
wild, wooded wilderness; for they had entered the
Adirondacks.
Being an express, the train stopped at few stations
along the route. The afternoon was drawing to a
close and Virginia began to listen with nervous in-
tensity for the expected signals. It seemed to her
that Ten Brok could hear the loud beating of her
246 THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
heart, or that, if he looked at her again, he would read
in the wild expectancy of her face all that it betokened.
The clangings of the car-wheels resounded with loud
rhythmic regularity, and they seemed chanting a mo-
notonous refrain which gradually formulated itself into
words to her excited imagination, saying:
 Going down the track—never coming back;
 Going down the track—never coming back!
Then a long prolonged whistle rent the air; it was
the first signal!
Virginia sat pale and rigid, unable to move. She
watched Ten Brok's profile as it confronted her a little
farther up the aisle 011 the opposite side of the car; she
noticed his square heavy jaw and set mouth and his
small, neat ears, set close to his head. At the same
time with a strange double consciousness she was long-
ing to rise and join Asunta.
Again the whistle sounded—this time quick and
short. The speed of the train was perceptibly less-
ened. And now she experienced an agonizing fear
that Ten Brok would notice that their speed was slack-
ening and suspect something. If he but turned and
looked at her he would be startled, but by some awful
fascination she could not remove her gaze from him.
But no; he still perused his paper with an imperturb-
able face. And all the time the train was running
slower—and still slower.
"Wouldn't it relieve your headache if I were to brush
your hair? asked Asunta, in an even voice, coming
forward Virginia essayed to speak, but her lips were
hot and dry. Reeling with the motion of the train,
she followed the Indian woman toward the dressing-
compartment. At that instant the third signal
sounded sharp and quick.  Hurry—now's your time,
it seemed to say.
It was now about six o'clock. Tim had either
that girl from bogota.
247
misunderstood or forgotten that he was to await the
approach of darkness; and having so far escaped Ten
Brok and Victor they had the additional apprehension
that they might be seen and intercepted by a brake-
man or conductor.
By the time they reached the platform the train was
going at quite a moderate rate of speed, and a man
was putting on the brakes still more. He glanced at the
two women without at first comprehending their de-
sign as they clung to the railing. "Wait, whispered
Asunta, putting her hand on Virginia's arm to detain
her—"not quite yet! 
"Be careful—stand back! warned the brakeman,
dropping his brake and coming toward them. At this
Virginia uttered a nervous cry, and without waiting to
descend the steps sprang wildly from the platform, fol-
lowed by Asunta.
CHAPTER XVIII.
the romance at the governor's.
The spot where the two women alighted after their
mad leap was a heap of dry brush, under which was an
accumulation of leaves, so that the fall was attended
by no more serious consequences than a momentary
sense of confusion. As Virginia sat up and looked
around she saw the lights and heard the whizz and
rattle of the departing train just disappearing around
a curve in the distance. An instant later she and
Asunta were alone in the forest, through which the
cool night winds were gently whispering.
"Are you hurt ? asked Asunta, coming toward her.
 No, dear; are you ? 
"I feel the better for it. It sets the blood tingling.
248
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
 Hash, what's that ?  whispered Virginia, as a sul-
len crash and a dull roar came faintly to their ears.
Asunta listened intently, and neither spoke for a
little.
"It must be woodmen felling trees, suggested Vir-
ginia.  Some great monarch has fallen. But come,
Asunta, let us get away from here.
"Which way shall we follow the track, up or down?
"Oh, I don't want to follow the track, answered
the girl, the old terror coming back to her. "The
brakeman will give the alarm and Ten Brok will come
back for us. Asunta, if that man catches us again I
shall die of despair. There's something about him
that freezes me, congeals my blood, and keeps me in a
sort of frozen calm like a bashful guest at a dinner-
party. If once he gets me to New York I am lost.
No hazard is so great as that of remaining near the
railroad—let us strike through the woods and trust to
making our way by a short cut to some settlement.
 You are right!  answered Asunta.  Had we not
been noticed by the brakeman the chances are that we
would not have been missed until they got to the next
station. Now of course we must look for immediate
pursuit! 
With that they hurried through the woods, which,
adjoining the railroad, were somewhat clear of under-
brush, but as they proceeded the forest grew more and
more dense and the traveling consequently more dif-
ficult.
The sun was now low in the west, being shut off
both by mountains and by trees, and night seemed to
fall suddenly and without any preliminary twilight.
There was a thick tangle of underbrush through which
they had to force their way by main strength, and giant
trees lay stretched across the path they had struck and
were trying to follow.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
249
"We cannot go any farther, said Asunta. "The
only thing we can do is to light a fire and try to make
ourselves comfortable for the night.
"Have you any matches ? 
"Trust a smoker for that, replied the Ynca.  If
I had not any I could get fire by rubbing dry sticks to-
gether.
Soon after a big roaring fire was burning and beside
it the two refugees sat enjoying its cheerful warmth.
 How hungry I am, said Virginia. "Is not human
nature trying? When I had plenty to eat I didn't want
it; now I have nothing I am famishing. It is because
we are free—because we have hope.
"Ah, that reminds me, observed Asunta, removing
a knapsack she wore over her shoulder.  As soon as
you told me of your plan of escape I went to the buffet
car and bought provisions. As she spoke she brought
forth a neat package in which were sandwiches, boiled
eggs, and a bottle of champagne.
"I never tasted anything equal to this, Virginia
murmured, as she ate a sandwich with keen enjoyment
and took sips of champagne from a patent drinking-cup
she shared with her companion. "This will give me
strength to struggle on as soon as it is morning; for
we must fly, Asunta, at early daybreak. To-morrow
there arer but two days between him and death. Two
days, Asunta! Demetrius will think I value my good
name more than his life. But we are going to him to-
morrow. O Asunta! we shall see Demetrius to-mor-
row!
As the girl talked on, Asunta collected dry leaves
and formed a very comfortable couch of them laid on
hemlock boughs beside the campfire. On this, weary
to exhaustion, Virginia stretched herself; but the In-
dian woman, with her long reed pipe in hand, watched
until morning.
250
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
Waking in the night and looking up through the
swaying boughs, Virginia discerned the shining of a
star.  Asunta, you are sure you can find your way
out of these woods to-morrow morning ?  she asked
anxiously.
 That will be easy enough.
"How?
"By taking our bearings from the sun. When it
rises we shall know in which direction to proceed.
 And before night we shall reach Albany ? 
"Yes, miquerida.
"You know, added Virginia, in a voice that trem-
bled,  that we have only two days more. She rose
and began walking restlessly about. "I try not to
think about him—about Demetrius, you know, she
went on. "I dreamed I was there—at Sing Sing—
and the death-watch was pacing up and down before
his iron-grated door. They wouldn't let me in. O
Asunta! I can't wait to get there—to tell the world of
his innocence, his nobility, his unselfishness. Who am
I that I should be worthy of such a love as that? I am
abashed before it, it is so tremendous! 
"Sleep to-night, and you may be able to take him
in your arms to-morrow, returned Asunta.
Virginia stopped short and faced her with uplifted
hand.  Don't dare to talk like that unless you want
to drive me mad, she answered wildly. "Remem-
ber, Asunta, I have a bridegroom! And the girl
shivered until the Indian woman piled more brush up-
on the fire. But she said:  It is not the night that is
cold, Asunta; it is my heart! 
 The night is almost gone already, responded the
Ynca. "It is almost four o'clock. But I like not the
chill damp of the air, nor the thin haze that is trying
to obscure the stars. It may forebode a storm.
Soon after morning broke. With it came disap-
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
251
pointment. A thick, vapory fog obscured everything.
Not a ray of sun broke through it. It was worse than
darkness. The two women, feeling the necessity of
re-enforcing their strength, ate what was left of the
food Asunta had brought with her, then the wine being
gone drank icy water from a neighboring brook that
gurgled down the mountain-side; then piling more
sticks upon the fire waited with what patience they
could muster for the weather to clear up.
As the morning wore on, however, the fog grew
thicker. The woods were enveloped in a haze as dense
as smoke. Virginia sat staring at the fire too misera-
ble to speak; Asunta seemed lost in thought.
"Can't you do something? cried the girl at last,
starting up wildly. "You who can make fire by rub-
bing sticks together, you who boast of savage blood—
why don't you get me out of this trap ? You must
know the way by instinct.
 There may be pitfalls, precipices, which veiled by
this fog would be our death, returned Asunta. "I
have seen in the Andes a man in the mist of the moun-
tains, six feet before me, even as he laughed and spoke
to me, step down three thousand feet.
 Then must we linger here and let Demetrius die?
O Asunta, it is terrible. My life—my soul—all that
is in me that lives, goes out to him in that lonely cell,
leaving my body here in this wretched wilderness!
She threw herself down upon the moist earth in a
wild burst of weeping, which left her in a sort of
stupor.
When she roused out of it half an hour later sbf^e-
held a curious sight. Asunta was standing a short dis-
tance away in the dense fog chanting something sol-
emnly in an unknown tongue. Occasionally the thick
vapor would swallow her up; then as it slightly lifted,
her stately figure would be revealed with uplifted arms
252 THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
like an ancient prophetess, her eyes lifted to heaven, her
face serene, yet with such an expression of power and
command that Virginia was transfixed and fascinated.
Finally, having concluded her oration, she crossed her
arms upon her breast, bowed to the earth and kissed
it. Then she came and sat down beside the campfire
as if nothing had happened.
 Asunta! what were you doing just now? cried the
girl, astonishment in her voice.
 I was trying a charm known to the ancient Yncas,
my ancestors, and which has been-handed down in my
family, replied the Indian woman, with dignity.
"I thought you were a Christian, said Virginia.
 I'm willing to be anything that'll do any good, an-
swered the Ynca woman, doggedly. ''All last night I
prayed hard and long to the Virgin, and this morning,
lo! this fog! So I thought I'd try something else.
As she spoke Asunta coolly snapped the beads from
round her neck and tossed them into a shallow, near-by
pool, where they disappeared with a dull splash. Then
she sat sullenly embracing her knees with her arms,
her hair falling in confusion down her back and round
her face, her eyes glaring savage and luminous like a
wild beast's, her strong nose and chin outlined against
the red glow of the fire.
One day in a remote wilderness, together with the
exigencies of a great crisis, had undone the effects of
three centuries of civilization and Christian teaching.
Asunta Ysquibel, true to the instincts of her race and
blood, which never has been nor ever will be tamed or
civilized, had relapsed into barbarism.
But whether it was the hard, long prayers in the
night or whether it was the charm executed in the day-
time, true it was that in about an hour a slight breeze
sprang up and the fog lifted just enough to encourage
them.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
253
Virginia rose and struggled desperately along the
trail they had followed the night before. This she did
despite Asunta's running after her and crying:  It is
like chasing a condor. The lifting fog will simply in-
veigle us on and then close down about us. In at-
tempting to walk through the mist we may fall into
some mighty arroyo, unless warned of the awful chasm
by its waterfall!  For this Indian woman acted as if
she thought the Adirondacks were the same awful
mountains as the Andes.
Then the fog closed down upon them once more,
and Asunta, despite the cries, even the struggles, of
Virginia, took the girl in her arms and forced her to
remain quiet, attempting to sooth her by whispering:
 Mi querida! would you go to your death ? Beware
the precipice! 
"If I do not go on it is his death!  cried Virginia,
desperately, and wept and sobbed, becoming almost
hysterical, until nature seemed to take pity on her,
for presently the suii threw its rays through the great
forest, wherever they could penetrate its vast gloom.
Immediately they took up their march along the
narrow trail, and not long after heard the shouts of
men. These were two guides carrying a boat. Under
the charge of the frontiersmen the two women set out
for the nearest settlement, which proved to be near
Blue Mountain Lake.
Long before they reached that place, Virginia's
strength gave way completely, and she sank to the
ground incapable of further effort. The wearisome
tramp in the woods, lack of proper food, and more
than all the terrible excitement and anxiety she had
nndergone during many hours and was yet experien-
cing, had all told severely upon her. The guides would
have willingly carried the young lady, but Asunta
caught up her charge in her strong arms, and, with the
254
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
wondrous power of the Andean Indian, bore her the
last mile of that weary jaunt.
Once with a thrill of feeling Virginia nestled her
cheek against that of her Indian companion, saying:
 Asunta, you are an angel! 
 Day before yesterday you called me a devil!
"Forgive me, I was wrong.
 No, said Asunta,  you were right both times! 
It was sundown before the little party reached the
settlement. The nearest railroad station was at North
Creek, about thirty-eight miles distant. A stage would
leave for that point early the next morning. Virginia
immediately, however, ordered a hired team; but
Asunta pointed out to her the fact that the trip would
be so timed as to bring them to the Executive Man-
sion before daylight, when it would not be practicable
to get audience with His Excellency. So at last, worn
out and distraught, the girl consented to v,Tait until
morning. But for Virginia the night proved a sleep-
less one, though they were comfortably situated at a
small hotel.
"Your young lady don't look fit to take the trip,
observed the wife of the proprietor the next morning,
looking at Virginia, who sat before a scarcely tasted
breakfast.
Asunta realized the truth of the remark. Virginia,
pallid, short-breathed, and with a face so drawn and
weary as to be scarce recognizable, seemed a better
subject for medical attention than for a forty-mile
stage ride.
But the young lady went to North Creek that morn-
ing, though she dozed part of the way with her head
on Asunta's shoulder. As they changed to the railway
she roused for a moment.
But the little mountain line was slow, as all such
roads are, and it was eight o'clock in the evening when
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
255
they arrived in Albany. Ordering a carriage, Asunta
assisted her companion into it and gave orders to the
man to drive them to the Governor's mansion.
"Come, rouse youi'self, whispered the Indian
woman as they drove off. '' Remember you are to have
audience with His Excellency. Prepare your story.
Virginia made no reply. She was breathing heavily.
Suddenly raising herself from Asunta's arms, she mur-
mured: "I wish I could see Demetrius—even on
the scaffold—anywhere! Then she broke out: "I
wouldn't let him kiss me. I was jealous—jealous of
that other woman. Oh what a waste of opportunity! 
"Fear not, muttered Asunta, "your love shall
live! 
 Yes, at the last day, though he were dead yet he
 She paused and her mind wandered. "One,
two—one, two—that step is so hard. Let me try
again. Oh, I am so tired! If I could see Demetrius
just for a minute, I could rest forever! Then she
burst out into tremulous laughter.  He says I can't
serve two masters—he's hard and cold—Ten Brok! 
"Hush! Here we are at the mansion of his good
Excellency. Now rouse yourself or Demetrius New-
castle dies to-morrow. Do you hear me?
She poured some stimulant into her drinking-cup and
forced Virginia to swallow it. Then, taking the girl
by the shoulders, she added fiercely: "Do your best,
rouse up, or he dies!
Whether it was the stimulant of the liquor or the
words, the girl did rouse. The two women passed up
the steps and rang the bell, which was answered by a
lackey, who at one glance at their draggled appearance
seemed disposed to close the door in their faces. But
before he could do so the Indian woman slapped into
his hand a bill, the denomination of which made him
cringe.
256
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"Now, she said sternly,  tell His Excellency that
two women who have traveled day and night have
come to speak to him concerning the man who is to
die to-morrow morning—Demetrius Newcastle. And
if you fail, she added, transfixing the man with her
wonderful eyes, "on you will be his blood forever!
Even while she spoke, the Governor himself came
down the staircase in evening dress—his carriage was
waiting at the door. The servitor whispered a few
words to him; he immediately and politely asked the
women to step into a reception room, and his eyes—■
better trained in reading character than the lackey's—■
recognized in his visitors two very uncommon women;
one very tall, dark, of magnificent proportions, and
half savage, though strangely tender to the other, who
was young and beautiful, but with despairing eyes that
went to the official's heart
"Ah, yes, he remarked, as soon as Asunta had ex-
plained the cause of their call. ' You are friends of
Mr. Newcastle's ? And there was an unmistakable
ring of esteem in his voice as he mentioned the con-
demned man that did not escape the attention of
Asunta.  The most remarkable murder trial of the
century, he added.
"We have information, your Excellency, that will
prove his innocence, replied Senora Ysquibel. "We
pray your Highness to order a reprieve until the facts
can be investigated.
 You are too late for that, replied the Governor.
 He is now 
 Not dead! burst out Virginia, wildly. "Youhad
no right to kill him before his time—how dared you 
"I mean you are too late to render Mr. Newcastle
assistance—for the reason that he is already free. ''
 Free ! shrieked Virginia, sinking down, overcome.
 O my God, I thank thee!
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
257
"Said I not, cried the Ynca, exultantly, "that the
padre should yet preach a thousand Sunday sermons?
Here the Governor interrupted their joy with further
explanation. "Two days ago,"he said, 'an Italian
laborer at Cragskill was fatally injured in a quarrel
with one of his compatriots. On his deathbed he made
a confession declaring himself to be guilty of the mur-
derof Sylvanus Hardinage, and giving directions where
to find the watch, diamond studs, and other valuables he
had taken from the dead man, and which he had been
afraid to dispose of. He said he had killed Hardinage
with the rector's hatchet, which he had also stolen;
also that he had purloined a ring from the dead man's
hand, which he lost near the spot. Under these cir-
cumstances, added the Governor,  I sent a full
pardon to Mr. Newcastle at once. In fact—it is very
curious—Mr. Newcastle is here!
"Here? faltered Virginia, "here? And she
grew pale as death.
"Yes, he is up-stairs even now, talking with my
wife, who takes a very earnest interest in his case,
explains the official, whose eyes gleamed kindly as he
noted the anxiety of the pathetic girl. "I wished to
ask Mr. Newcastle how the complete, the convincing
web of circumstantial evidence had so completely
meshed him. For my own information, as a guide to
future cases, I sent for him and begged him to tell me
how he had been able to say so little for himself; how
it was possible for an innocent man of education and
intellectual power to be unable to state some circum-
stance that would have turned guilt from him, or
mentioned the name of some one who could have saved
him. Curiously enough the prospect of life doesn't
seem to give this reverend gentleman much happiness.
I should think from his appearance he was about as
unhappy now as when he was in the condemned cell.
258
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
The man is as close-mouthed to me now as he was to
judge and jury.
To this Virginia listened with gleaming eyes that
grew brighter with a love-light that flashed through
tears as the governor closed, making her face radiant
with beauty, with tenderness.
"Ah! that was because of me! "she cried.  Dy-
ing for my sake, my love! my Demetrius! dying be-
cause he feared an unjust world would put taint upon
me! dying 
 I FORBID YOU TO SPEAK ! 
These words were uttered commandingly by a gen-
tleman who, passing to the front door, had overheard
and strode into the room. It was Demetrius New-
castle, from whose face the shadow of death had not
yet entirely lifted, whose eyes were still afire with the
light of the other world, upon whose threshold he had
stood so long.
Virginia advanced unevenly toward him, her face
transfigured. "Demetrius! Demetrius! she mur-
mured.  Did you think I would let you die? Oh,
why did you not write to me? Why did you not an-
swer my letters?
She would have thrown herself into his arms but he
prevented her by a warning movement of the hand.
"I pray your Excellency, he said, turning to the
Governor,  to permit me a few moments ' interview
with—Mrs. TenBrok! .
But the Governor, who had a kindly heart, and was
even more the gentleman than the man of affairs, had
already stepped out, barely catching the last words of
the rector's speech, and was on his way up-stairs to tell
his wife of the romance below. Asunta stood in the
background.
The pair who had met so strangely, gazed in each
other's eyes—but there was that in Demetrius's face
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
259
that made Virginia quail and shrink—a look that froze
her heart and tied her tongue. Then speech came.
"You know of my marriage!  she said tremblingly.
"Yes! In the silence of the condemned cell five
days ago I read in the newspapers, the only communi-
cation they permitted me with the world I had left,
that you had given yourself to another. Then at last
I knew the bitterness of death! While I was con-
demned to a felon's death to keep your name spotless,
you were rejoicing in the triumph of a worldly mar-
riage! But I am not here to reproach you. I only
wish to warn you. Beware of prying newspapers and
indiscreet listeners, for your husband's sake, if not for
your own! And now, Mrs. Ten Brok— he turned to
go with cold politeness—"good day!
"You shall not go like that, cried Virginia, seizing
his arm and clinging to him convulsively.  Deme-
trius! don't murder me with such words and looks!
Listen to my explanation. I never knew you were in
prison—papa and mamma kept the papers from me—
they deceived me, and made me think you were mar-
ried to your fiancee, Eleanor Bruce—
 My cousin, he interrupted,  another mistake.
 I was desperate—I was mad, went on Virginia.
 Urged by my parents, I married Ten Brok, and
in less than three hours after the ceremony dis-
covered the awful truth about you, and since that
moment it has been war to the knife and a fight
to the death between him and me—he trying to
prevent me from declaring the truth, and I en-
deavoring to save you. Do you think I haven't suf-
fered ? Look at me, and see if I am a heartless
jilt! Tell me you know the truth—that I am also a
victim, a co-sufferer with you. This much, O De-
metrius! I do deserve! Overcome by overpowering
emotion, she sank on her knees by his side.
26o
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
"Forgive me, Virginia, said the rector, huskily,
"that I ever doubted you. Your words have given
me joy, and yet, O God! the most exquisite pain.
Now I know that not only my life's happiness is wrecked
but yours also. But come!  he assisted her to rise, and
took her hand in his.  Life is not so tremendously
long, you know, dearest. Only a little while to do one's
duty bravely—to be true to the noblest and best—and
then, some time, somewhere shall we not take up, in
another world, what we've missed in this ? I've been
on the border of it, Virginia, so near that at times my
spirit seemed to span the chasm. It is not a myth—
sometime we will solve its intricacies together. Until
then 
 You are two foolish ones, burst in Asunta, com-
ing to them.  Think you I would let the empty words
of a priest stand between my happiness and me ? 
"Be silent, Asunta, said Virginia, reprovingly.
 Demetrius, do not listen to her—her sentiments are
not mine. I will do as you say—I will take up the
burden of my life as best I can. I am happier now
that I know you understand and do not misjudge me.
We shall not meet again in this world. The two
looked long but quietly at each other; at last without
further speech, the rector turned to go.
At the door he met the Governor, who held a news-
paper in his hand.  I heard you address this young
lady as Mrs. Ten Brok, he said.  She is not Mrs.
Theodore Ten Brok, is she?
"Yes.
"Then I have bad news for her, if she has not
already heard it. Does she know that her husband
was killed on the 22d inst. on the express from Mon-
treal at Moosehead River bridge? The bridge gave
way—the train took fire—it was a fearful accident, and
the body has only just been identified, the papers say.
THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA.
261
 Killed! repeated Newcastle, like one dazed, and
turning saw that Senora Ysquibel and Virginia had
heard the Governor's speech.
"Mr. Ten Brok killed! said Virginia, in awe-stricken
tones.
The Ynca made the sign of the cross.  Gracios ct
JDios !  she said softly, in a tone of fervent exaltation.
Asunta was once more orthodox.
Virginia took the newspaper and as she cast her
eyes over the article, two tears gathered in her eyes
and ran down her cheeks. "He was cruel and un-
just, she said, "but as heaven is my witness, I never
wished him such an awful retribution. We heard the
crash of the falling train, Asunta, immediately after we
jumped from it. How strange that when we thought
we were jumping to save the life of another, we were
saving our own.
"And our good engineer  questioned Asunta.
"This paper says he jumped from his engine and es-
caped with slight injuries. His cure shall be my con-
cern, returned Virginia. "He is suffering, poor fel-
.low, in the hospital.
With this the three who had so strangely congre-
gated at the Governor's mansion, turned to that offi-
cial with hearty thanks for his courtesy and kindness,
and bade him adieu.
"May I accompany you? asked Demetrius, as they
reached the street, where their carriage yet awaited
them.
 No. Not now.
'' But you will let me come—some time, he pleaded,
with luminous eyes.
"Yes, come,"she answered; then added with emo-
tion, '' Soon!
As he assisted them into the carriage, Virginia
looked up—-a look that meant detention.
262 THAT GIRL FROM BOGOTA
''What is it? whispered Demetrius, at the carriage
door.
Virginia's face grew scarlet; her breath came un-
evenly. She said naively:
 Do you remember—the last time I saw you—when
we parted, you know? O Demetrius! you remember
what you would have given me and I refused? Well,
I've been—I've been sorry ever since 
Demetrius's eyes lit up with a flash of understand-
ing. He took her in his arms and kissed her.
FINIS.
NOVELS —continued.
HUGO, Victor.
126 Les Miserables
127 Notre Dame
128 History of a Crime
129 Ninety-Three
130 Toilers of the Sea
131 By Order of the King
KINGS LEY, Charles.
132 Alton Locke
133 Yeast
251 Hypatia
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134 Harry Lorrequer
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137 Arthur O'Leary
138 Con Cregan
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139 Handy Andy
140 Rory O'More
LYTTON, Lord.
Author's Copyright Revised Editions con-
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155 Zanoni
156 The Caxtons
157 Harold
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160 A Strange Story
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162 Pausanias: and The
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READE, Charles.
254 Peg Woffington and
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248 The Luck of Barry
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DR. DUNBAR'S
AZKARAM,
the original Anti-Catarrh
Smelling Bottle is the only
Cure yet- discovered for
COLDS AND SORE
THROATS by Inhalation.
Shun inferior substitutes. Of
Chemists, 2s., or post-free,
from NEWBERY'S, King
Edward Street, London,
E.C.
SULPHOLINE
SHILLING
BOTTLES.
LOTION.
A SPOTLESS SKIN.
A BEAUTIFUL COMPLEXION.
REMOVES ALL DISFIGUREMENTS.
USED IN THE ROYAL NURSERIES.
MATTHEWS' @
PREPARED FULLERS'EARTH
Is invaluable for Protecting the Skin and Preserving the
Complexion from Winds, Redness, Roughness,
Chaps, etc.
6d. & 1s. OF ALL CHEMISTS.
SPECIALLY PURIFIED FOR THE SKIN.
This sweetly scented Emollient Milk is superior to every other
preparation for rendering the Skin
SOFT, SMOOTH, AND WHITE.
It entirely removes and prevents all
ROUGHNESS, REDNESS, SUNBURN,CHAPS,
And all other blemishes of the Skin caused by
SUMMER'S HEAT or WINTER'S COLD.
It keeps the Skin Cool and Refreshed on the Hottest Day in
Summer, and Soft and Smooth in the Coldest Winter.
Bottles, tj, 2/6. Ox all Chemists and Perfumers. Free for 3d. extra by the Makers,
. M. BEETHAM & SOH, CHEMISTS, CHELTENHAM.
ThirteenthJ Routledge's Railway Library Advertiser.
[Issue.
8A TUBS POLISH,
For Ladies' and Children's Boots and Shoes, Travelling Bags,
Trunks, Harness, etc.
IT IS NOT A SPIRIT VARNISH, AND WILL NOT INJURS
TEE LEATHER.
HIGHEST AWARD WHEREVER EXHIBITED.
Latest, Paris Exhibition, 1889.
SATIN BROWTCREAM,
Light, Medium, and Dark.
For Brown and Russian Leather Boots and Shoes, etc.
SATIN BLACKANWHTTE CREAMS
For improving all kinds of Patent Leather and
Glac6 Kid.
SATIN "BROWN POLISH,
For Brown and Russia Leather Boots and Shoes.
Invaluable for Travelling Bags, Harness, etc.
CA UTION.—See the Name  SA TIN  o?i all the above.
AMERICAN
MAGIC
BRONZE
Gives to old Boots and Shoes, Ornaments,
etc., the appearance of new.
ARMY&TAVY
LIQUID BLACKING
Gives a Brilliant Jet Black Polish
quickly.
None GENUINE without our Signature—
B. F. BROWN & Co.
SOLD EVERYWHERE.
100,000, S. A B., Ltd., 25 /S/5>5.
01 Zonfw H' J& kmc i -cap
r0R SCRUBBING KITCHEN TABLES AND FLOORS.
Tiie Wo'-ln'sraost marveUou Cleanser and Polisher. Makes Tin like
Silver, Copper like C jld, Puiut like New, Brass Ware like Mirrors,
Spotlesi Earthenware, Crocker v like Marble, Marble White.
SOLD LY GROCERS, IRONMONGERS AND CHEMISTS,
EDMUND EVANS, ENGRAVER AND PRINTER, RACQUET COURT, v :.:T ET S7Ri.PT, LONDON, K.i