Jaquelina. Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller
brilliant light from the outer rain and darkness; then the mist cleared; she looked up and found herself standing before the stateliest and most superbly handsome man she had ever beheld in her life.
Tall, dark, haughty, the outlaw chief was as kingly in his beauty as Lucifer, "star of the morning," might have looked in the hour of his fall.
His glossy curls of jet-black hair were thrown carelessly back from a brow as white and perfect as sculptured marble, his dark and piercing eyes gleamed star-like beneath the black, over-arching brows.
His nose was perfect in shape and contour; his rather stern and slightly sad lips were half concealed by a long curling mustache, black, like his hair.
Youth, power, and strength spoke in every line of the firm and well-knit figure in its careless yet well-fitting hunting suit of fine, dark-blue flannel.
One might have looked for such a face and form at the head of a gallant army, bravely leading his troops to victory or death, but never here in the den of robbers.
Jaquelina had one full glance into that darkly handsome face—one look that imprinted it forever on her memory—then the chief caught up a mask that lay upon a table near by, and fitted it hurriedly to his features; the low, deep, musical voice that bade them enter now exclaimed with repressed wrath and menace:
"Whom have we here, Bowles? And how have you dared bring a stranger into my presence while I remained unmasked?"
Jaquelina saw that Bowles trembled at the stern anger of his chief.
"Captain, I humbly beg your pardon," he said. "I caught this girl riding a fine black mare through the woods, and attempted a harmless joke upon her, on which she flew at me like a little tigress and belabored me with her riding-whip. I was so enraged at her impudence that I whipped upon the mare's back and brought the little wretch here to you to tell me how to punish her."
A low laugh actually rippled over the stern, sad lips of the robber chief. He looked at Jaquelina where she stood in the center of the apartment, the rain-drops falling from her drenched garments upon the rich crimson carpet in shining little pools, the wet curls clinging to her white brow; her face pale as death, her slight form trembling with cold and terror.
The laugh died suddenly on his lips, his dark eyes flashed through the openings in his mask.
"For shame, Bowles," he said, sharply. "How dared you assault a woman? We make no war upon such."
"Orders were to take every fine animal that passed," Bowles said, half-apologetically, yet sullenly.
"Animals, yes, but not human beings, least of all helpless females. I never counted upon such passing. What were you, a mere slip of a girl, doing on horseback in the woods at the dead hour of night?" he inquired, looking curiously at Jaquelina.
"I went to call the doctor to a sick child," she answered.
"Where were all the men of your family and neighborhood that you were permitted to take such a lonely and perilous midnight ride?" inquired the outlaw chief, again fixing his dark eyes upon her in surprise, not unmixed with suspicion.
Jaquelina flushed hotly beneath that look.
"My uncle and all the neighboring men were absent," she said, returning his gaze with cool scorn.
"Where?" he inquired.
"They have joined together to pursue the horse-thieves whom you have the honor to command," she replied, defiantly.
The chief started, then tossed his handsome head with a reckless laugh.
"Do you think it likely they will overtake us?" he asked, sneeringly.
"I cannot tell, but I hope so. I wish I could capture you," said the girl, frankly.
"Do you? Why do you wish so?" he inquired, nettled.
"I should like to earn the reward of two hundred dollars that has been offered for your apprehension;" she replied, naively.
"What would you do with it?" he asked, rather amused at her frankness.
"That is my business," Jaquelina answered, with demure dignity.
"Bowles, light a fire. I have been so interested in your charming captive that I forgot she was drenched with the rain. Take a seat, Miss—Miss—I don't know what to call you," he said, as he pushed a large arm-chair toward her.
"My name is Meredith—Miss Meredith," Jaquelina said, but she did not take the offered chair. She lifted her dark, clear eyes appealingly to the masked face of the outlaw captain.
"Oh, sir," she cried, clasping her white hands in unconscious pathos, "do let me have Black Bess and go home! They tell me you only rob rich men who can afford to lose their horses. Uncle Charlie is poor. He has only his farm and the mare, and one horse besides. Would you rob him of his little all?"
The handsome chief looked admiringly at the sweet, girlish face with its pleading eyes and wistful lips. In spite of her terror and her drenched, miserable condition there was a strange, luring charm about the lovely young face. The heart of the outlaw chief was strangely stirred by it.
"Miss Meredith," he said, abruptly, "I gather from what you have said that you are an orphan?"
"Yes," Jaquelina said, wonderingly.
"There is one condition," he said, slowly, "on which I will return Black Bess to her owner. There is nothing that would tempt me to part with you. I am a reckless, defiant man, Miss Meredith. I fear nothing; but your beautiful, brave face has won my heart from me at first sight. I love you. Let me make you my wife, sweet girl, and I will take you far away from this life and these scenes, and your life shall be a long, bright dream of love and happiness!"
CHAPTER V.
The startling suddenness of the outlaw chief's proposal appeared to take Jaquelina's breath away.
She did not attempt to answer him, but remained silently regarding him in surprise, not unmixed with terror.
"Have I taken you by surprise?" he inquired, after a moment, in a gentler tone. "Forgive me. I am used to rough men, not timid women. But consent to be my bride, Miss Meredith, and you will find me the tenderest lord a fair girl ever dreamed of. Do not answer me this moment. Take time to consider."
"I do not need a moment's time to consider," Jaquelina flashed forth indignantly. "Do you think I would marry a common robber, a horse-thief, an outlaw?"
She saw the dark eyes flash beneath the outlaw's mask.
"Those are harsh words, Miss Meredith," he said, with outward calmness. "They are not becoming under my own humble roof and from the lips of my guest."
"Not your guest, but your captive," the girl said, bitterly.
"A beloved captive," replied the outlaw. "Child, I do not know why my heart has gone out to you so strangely. It is not your beauty that has won me. Women more beautiful than you have smiled on me and my heart was untouched. But the moment I looked into your proud, dark eyes my soul seemed to recognize its true mate."
"You flatter me!" cried the captive, drawing her slight form erect with indignant scorn. "I the true mate of a man as reckless and crime-stained as you? You rate me highly indeed! Were I a man I would make you retract the insult at the sword's point."
"How? A duel?" asked the outlaw, laughing at her passionate vehemence.
"Yes, a duel," she answered, with unmoved gravity.
"You are a brave little girl, Miss Meredith," the outlaw answered, resting his white, well-formed hand on the back of a chair with easy grace, while he regarded her attentively. "You make me admire you more than ever."
"I