a familiar manner by this stranger, who had already grievously offended her

once before that day, Betty stood perfectly still a moment, speechless with
surprise, then she stepped quickly out of the shadow.

Clarke turned as he heard her step and looked straight into a pair of dark,
scornful eyes and a face pale with anger.

"If it be necessary that you use my name, and I do not see how that can be
possible, will you please have courtesy enough to say Miss Zane?" she cried

haughtily.
Lydia recovered her composuresufficiently to falter out:

"Betty, allow me to introduce--"
"Do not trouble yourself, Lydia. I have met this person once before to-day,

and I do not care for an introduction."
When Alfred found himself gazing into the face that had haunted him all the

afternoon, he forgot for the moment all about his errand. He was finally
brought to a realization of the true state of affairs by Lydia's words.

"Mr. Clarke, you are all wet. What has happened?" she exclaimed, noticing the
water dripping from his garments.

Suddenly a light broke in on Alfred. So the girl he had accosted on the road
and "Betty" were one and the same person. His face flushed. He felt that his

rudeness on that occasion may have merited censure, but that it had not
justified the humiliation she had put upon him.

These two persons, so strangely brought together, and on whom Fate had made
her inscrutable designs, looked steadily into each other's eyes. What

mysterious force thrilled through Alfred Clarke and made Betty Zane tremble?
"Miss Boggs, I am twice unfortunate," said Alfred, tuning to Lydia, and there

was an earnest ring in his deep voice "This time I am indeed blameless. I have
just left Colonel Zane's house, where there has been an accident, and I was

dispatched to find 'Betty,' being entirely ignorant as to who she might be.
Colonel Zane did not stop to explain. Miss Zane is needed at the house, that

is all."
And without so much as a glance at Betty he bowed low to Lydia and then strode

out of the open door.
"What did he say?" asked Betty, in a small trembling voice, all her anger and

resentment vanished.
"There has been an accident. He did not say what or to whom. You must hurry

home. Oh, Betty, I hope no one hat been hurt! And you were very unkind to Mr.
Clarke. I am sure he is a gentleman, and you might have waited a moment to

learn what he meant."
Betty did not answer, but flew out of the door and down the path to the gate

of the fort. She was almost breathless when she reached Colonel Zane's house,
and hesitated on the step before entering. Summoning her courage she pushed

open the door. The first thing that struck her after the bright light was the
pungent odor of strong liniment. She saw several women neighbors whispering

together. Major McColloch and Jonathan Zane were standing by a couch over
which Mrs. Zane was bending. Colonel Zane sat at the foot of the couch. Betty

saw this in the first rapid glance, and then, as the Colonel's wife moved
aside, she saw a prostrate figure, a white face and dark eyes that smiled at

her.
"Betty," came in a low voice from those pale lips.

Her heart leaped and then seemed to cease beating. Many long years had passed
since she had heard that voice, but it had never been forgotten. It was the

best beloved voice of her childhood, and with it came the sweet memories of
her brother and playmate. With a cry of joy she fell on her knees beside him

and threw her arms around his neck.
"Oh, Isaac, brother, brother!" she cried, as she kissed him again and again.

"Can it really be you? Oh, it is too good to be true! Thank God! I have prayed
and prayed that you would be restored to us."

Then she began to cry and laugh at the same time in that strange way in which
a woman relieves a heart too full of joy. "Yes, Betty. It is all that is left

of me," he said, running his hand caressingly over the dark head that lay on
his breast.

"Betty, you must not excite him," said Colonel Zane.
"So you have not forgotten me?" whispered Isaac.

"No, indeed, Isaac. I have never forgotten," answered Betty, softly. "Only
last night I spoke of you and wondered if you were living. And now you are

here. Oh, I am so happy!" The quivering lips and the dark eyes bright with
tears spoke eloquently of her joy.

"Major will you tell Captain Boggs to come over after supper? Isaac will be
able to talk a little by then, and he has some news of the Indians," said

Colonel Zane.
"And ask the young man who saved my life to come that I may thank him," said

Isaac.
"Saved your life?" exclaimed Betty, turning to her brother, in surprise, while

a dark red flush spread over her face. A humiliating thought had flashed into
her mind.

"Saved his life, of course," said Colonel Zane, answering for Isaac. "Young
Clarke pulled him out of the river. Didn't he tell you?"

"No," said Betty, rather faintly.
"Well, he is a modest young fellow. He saved Isaac's life, there is no doubt

of that. You will hear all about it after supper. Don't make Isaac talk any
more at present."

Betty hid her face on Isaac's shoulder and remained quiet a few moments; then,
rising, she kissed his cheek and went quietly to her room. Once there she

threw herself on the bed and tried to think. The events of the day, coming
after a long string of monotonous, wearying days, had been confusing; they had

succeeded one another in such rapid order as to leave no time for reflection.
The meeting by the river with the rude but interesting stranger; the shock to

her dignity; Lydia's kindly advice; the stranger again, this time emerging
from the dark depths of disgrace into the luminous light as the hero of her

brother's rescue--all these thoughts jumbled in her mind making it difficult
for her to think clearly. But after a time one thing forced itself upon her.

She could not help being conscious that she had wronged some one to whom she
would be forever indebted. Nothing could alter that. She was under an eternal

obligation to the man who had saved the life she loved best on earth. She had
unjustly scorned and insulted the man to whom she owed the life of her

brother.
Betty was passionate and quick-tempered, but she was generous and

tender-hearted as well, and when she realized how unkind and cruel she kind
been she felt very miserable. Her position admitted of no retreat. No matter

how much pride rebelled; no matter how much she disliked to retract anything
she had said, she knew no other course lay open to her. She would have to

apologize to Mr. Clarke. How could she? What would she say? She remembered how
cold and stern his face had been as he turned from her to Lydia. Perplexed and

unhappy, Betty did what any girl in her position would have done: she resorted
to the consoling and unfailing privilege of her sex--a good cry.

When she became composed again she got up and bathed her hot cheeks, brushed
her hair, and changed her gown for a becoming one of white. She tied a red

ribbon about her throat and put a rosette in her hair. She had forgotten all
about the Indians. By the time Mrs. Zane called her for supper she had her

mind made up to ask Mr. Clarke's pardon, tell him she was sorry, and that she
hoped they might be friends.

Isaac Zane's fame had spread from the Potomac to Detroit and Louisville. Many
an anxious mother on the border used the story of his captivity as a means to

frighten truant youngsters who had evinced a love for running wild in the
woods. The evening of Isaac's return every one in the settlement called to

welcome home the wanderer. In spite of the troubled times and the dark cloud
hanging over them they made the occasion one of rejoicing.

Old John Bennet, the biggest and merriest man in the colony, came in and
roared his appreciation of Isaac's return. He was a huge man, and when he

stalked into the room he made the floor shake with his heavy tread. His honest
face expressed his pleasure as he stood over Isaac and nearly crushed his

hand.
"Glad to see you, Isaac. Always knew you would come back. Always said so.

There are not enough damn redskins on the river to keep you prisoner."