“Fabian, put Mrs. Rockharrt into the carriage.  I shall step into the waiting room to speak to the ticket agent,” said old Aaron Rockharrt, as he strode off to the building.

Fabian Rockharrt gave his arm to the lady, who during all this time had remained closely veiled.  He led her off, leaving Clarence and Sylvan on the platform to wait for the return of Mr. Rockharrt.  As soon as Fabian and his companion were out of hearing of the rest of their party, he turned to her, and bending his head close to her ear, said: 

“Well, Ann White, what have you to say for yourself, eh, Ann White?”

He felt her tremble as she answered defiantly: 

“Mrs. Rockharrt, if you please.”

“No; by my life I will never give to such as you my honored mother’s name!”

“And yet I have it with all the rights and privileges it bestows, and I defy you, Fabian Rockharrt!”

“You know very little of the laws relating to marriage if you think that you have legal right to the name and position you have seized, or that I have not power to thrust you out of my father’s house and into a cell.”

“You are insolent!  I shall report your words to Mr. Rockharrt, and then we shall see who will be thrust out of his house!”

“I think that you had better not.  Listen, and I will tell you something that you do not know, perhaps.”

She turned quickly, inquiringly, toward him.  He stooped and whispered a few words.  He felt her thrill from head to foot, felt her rock and sway for a moment, and then—­he had just time to catch her before she fell a dead weight in his arms.

CHAPTER XX.

THE WHISPERED WORDS.

“Well! what’s all this?” abruptly demanded old Aaron Rockharrt, as he came up, followed by Clarence and Sylvan, just as Fabian was lifting the unconscious woman into the carriage.

“Mrs. Rockharrt has been over-fatigued, I think, sir, for she has fainted.  But don’t be alarmed; she is recovering,” said Mr. Fabian, as he settled the lady in an easy position in a corner of the carriage, and found a smelling salts bottle and put it to her nose.

“‘Alarmed?’ Why should I be?”

“No reason why, sir,” answered Mr. Fabian, who then stooped to the woman and whispered:  “Nor need you be so.  You are safe for the present.”

“Will you get out of my way and let me come to my place?” demanded the Iron King.

“Pardon me, sir,” said Fabian, stepping backward from the carriage.

“Fainting?” said the old man, in a tone of annoyance, as he took his seat beside his new wife—­“fainting?  The first Mrs. Rockharrt never fainted in her life; nor ever gave any sort of trouble.  What’s the matter with you, Rose?  Don’t be a consummate fool and turn nervous.  I won’t stand any nonsense,” he said roughly, as he peered into the pale face of his new slave.

“Oh, it is nothing,” she faltered—­“nothing.  I was overcome by heat.  It is a very hot day.”