The men went back with ropes and grappling hooks, but nothing came of their labors.  The bodies of the hapless lovers were not found, and none knew how they had gone over the treacherous crag into the abyss below.  Surmises were rife, but prudence chose the better part of silent sympathy.  The newspapers fairly gloated over the tragedy, and summer visitors were divided between curiosity to look upon the spot and fear lest they, too, might miss their footing; hence the profits of Cave Hotel were not noticeably on the decrease.

Colonel Dare refused to be comforted, unless, indeed, he could rejoice at the escape of the dove from the eagle’s clutches.  Now that the girl was lost to him, Hammond was willing to accept terms before declined; and the Dare ancestral home was at once put upon the market for sale.

Eldon Brand had no near relatives, but there were many to mourn his untimely fate.

* * * * *

Some hours after the disappearance of the lovers, Stephen, the guide, re-entered the cave with a large bundle in his arms, and accompanied by a single tourist, a sedate man who was a stranger to the region.  They proceeded along the short route to the chapel.  Adjusting the torches, Stephen gave a low whistle, when from behind a mammoth stalagmite came forth a young man and a fair maiden, who took their stand in the Double Niche.

Eldon Brand had left nothing undone during his hours of preparation; and when the man of God stood before the youthful pair, he held in his hands the properly authenticated document which was to cement the marriage tie in the civil courts.  He had never before officiated at so unique a bridal, and when once more on terra firma proper, he bore the secret away to his Northern home.

Days passed and still the tragic fate of the hapless lovers held a place in fireside chats.

Night had fallen.  All was quiet in the sparsely settled neighborhood of Cave Hotel.  Stephen, the guide, with basket and torch, swiftly descended the winding stairs and entered the grand colonnade, where the bats still held high carnival.  He pushed on, sometimes a little cramped for space, till he reached the black avenue he had called Dan.  Stooping he possessed himself of a string that was fastened to a stake in the ground, and followed its course through intricate windings till a light glimmered in the distance.  Whistling softly, he advanced more rapidly.  A shadow was flung upon the curtains of a doorway, and parting the folds, a figure appeared at the opening.

“Ah, old fellow, you never forget us,” was the cheery greeting.

“Not I,” said the man, “I think you will find your list all made out here,” depositing his basket inside.