Daughter go!" and the man
pressed her to his breast.
"And you will be all right? No one will come for you?"
A look of horror swept over his face. "They shall not find me," he
faltered, releasing his daughter from the embrace.
"Let me tell you, sir," ventured Cora, "that the man I just saw
leave this island is a villain. Don't believe one word he says."
"Villain? Yes! He is that, for he would have carried off my
Laurel!"
"Hush father, you showed him that you had more strength than a
coward can have. I feel so much better. I am almost cured since
this girl has taken my hand."
"My name is Cora Kimball," said our heroine, "and I have a camp at
the lower end of the lake. It is there I am taking Laurel."
"And she may come to see me?" almost sobbed the aged man. "My
little wild Laurel."
"Yes, indeed, and some day I feel that we may take you, too, away
from this island. There, I do not mean anything to harm you. Come,
dear, it is growing dark."
"I will leave a branch of laurel to guide you back to me," the man
said to his daughter. "When you come, look for it as I shall place
it fresh every day."
"Go now, before I go," his daughter urged. "Then I shall feel that
you are safe."
He turned, and the girls stood to watch the last of that queer form
as it disappeared over the hill. He was going to one of his many
woodland haunts.
"Now we may go," said the lonely one.
Pages:
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112