“Oh yes, but I am,” said Minnie, briskly.

Tozer sighed.

“I’m very happy,” continued Minnie, “very, very happy—­that is, when I’m with dear, darling Kitty, and dear, dear Ethel, and my darling old Dowdy, and dear, kind papa.”

Tozer sighed again.

“You can’t be truly happy thus,” he said, mournfully.  “You may think you are, but you ain’t.  My heart fairly yearns over you when I see you, so young, so lovely, and so innocent; and I know you can’t be happy as you are.  You must live otherwise.  And oh, I pray you—­I entreat you to set your affections elsewhere!”

“Well, then, I think it’s very, very horrid in you to press me so,” said, Minnie, with something actually like asperity in her tone; “but it’s quite impossible.”

“But oh, why?”

“Why, because I don’t want to have things any different.  But if I have to be worried and teased so, and if people insist on it so, why, there’s only one that I’ll ever consent to.”

“And what is that?” asked Tozer, looking at her with the most affectionate solicitude.

“Why, it’s—­it’s—­” Minnie paused, and looked a little confused.

“It’s what?” asked Tozer, with still deeper and more anxious interest.

“Why, it’s—­it’s—­Rufus K. Gunn.”

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

THE IMPATIENT BARON.

The brigands had resisted stubbornly, but finally found themselves without a leader.  Girasole had disappeared; and as his voice no longer directed their movements, they began to fall into confusion.  The attacking party, on the other hand, was well led, and made a steady advance, driving the enemy before them.  At length the brigands lost heart, and took to flight.  With a wild cheer the assailants followed in pursuit.  But the fugitives took to the forest, and were soon beyond the reach of their pursuers in its familiar intricacies, and the victors were summoned back by the sound of the trumpet.

[Illustration:  “THE DISCOVERY OF A BODY ON THE SHORE OF THE LAKE.”]

It was now daylight, and as the conquering party emerged from the forest they showed the uniform of the Papal Zouaves; while their leader, who had shown himself so skillful in forest warfare, proved to be no less a personage than our friend the Baron.  Led by him, the party advanced to the old stone house, and here, drawing up his men in front, their leader rushed in, and searched every room.  To his amazement, he found the house deserted, its only inmate being that dead brigand whom Girasole had mistaken for Hawbury.  This discovery filled the Baron with consternation.  He had expected to find the prisoners here, and his dismay and grief were excessive.  At first he could not believe in his ill luck; but another search convinced him of it, and reduced him to a state of perfect bewilderment.