For Womans Love | Page 6

by the other three men
of his party.

"Good morning, Judge Abbot. We are just in time, I find. We came up
by the night train, and a close shave it has been. Well, a miss is as good
as a mile, and we are safe to see the whole of the pageant," said the old
man, speaking to a tall, thin, gray-haired gentleman, who wore a rosette
on the lapel of his coat.
"Yes, sir; but here is a very strange difficulty--very strange, indeed,"
replied the official, with a deeply troubled and perplexed air, which was
shared by all the gentlemen who stood with him.
"What's the trouble, gentlemen? Is the chief justice ill, that his honor
cannot administer the oath, or what?"
"It is much worse than that--if anything could be worse," gravely
replied one of the committee.
"What is it then? A contested election at this late hour?"
"The governor-elect cannot be found. No one has seen him since eleven
o'clock last night. He is missing."

CHAPTER II.
A LOST GOVERNOR AND BRIDEGROOM.
"Missing!" echoed old Aaron Rockharrt, drawing up his huge frame to
its fullest height, and staring with strong black eyes in a defiant and
aggressive manner. "Missing! did you say, sir?" he repeated sternly.
"Yes, Mr. Rockharrt; ever since last night," replied Judge Abbot,
chairman of the committee, in much distress and anxiety.
"Impossible! Never heard of such a thing in the whole course of my life!
A bridegroom lost on the evening of his marriage! A governor lost on
the morning of his inauguration! I tell you, sir, it is impossible--utterly
and entirely impossible! How do you know, sir, that he has not been
seen by some one or other since last night? How do you know that he

cannot be found, somewhere, this morning?"
"All his household have failed to find him. Our messengers have been
sent in every direction without discovering the slightest clew to
his--fate," gloomily replied the judge.
Mr. Rockharrt turned to the porter, who was still in attendance at the
door, and demanded:
"Where is your mistress?"
The man, a negro and an old family servant of the Rockharrts, replied:
"The young madam is in the back drawing room, sir; and if you please,
sir, I think she would be all the better for seeing the old madam."
"Who is with her now?" shortly demanded Mr. Rockharrt, ignoring his
servant's suggestion, although Mrs. Rockharrt looked nervously
anxious to follow it "There is no one with her, sir."
"Alone! Alone! My granddaughter left alone on the morning after her
marriage? What do you mean by that? Where is your master?
"Show me in to your mistress at once. I will get at the bottom of this
mystery, or this villainy, as it is more likely to prove, before I am
through with the matter. And if my granddaughter's husband is not to
be found before the day is out, I will have all concerned in the plot
arrested for conspiracy!" exclaimed Mr. Rockharrt, with that utter
recklessness of assertion to which he was addicted in moments of
excitement.
The dismayed negro lowered his eyes and led the way. Aaron
Rockharrt strode on, followed by his timid and terrified old wife, his
stalwart sons, his mocking grandson, and the members of the
committee. But the old man, not liking such an escort, turned upon
them, and said, with sarcastic politeness and dignity:
"Gentlemen, permit me. It is expedient, under existing circumstances,

that I should first see my granddaughter alone."
The members of the committee bowed with offended dignity and
withdrew to the front of the hall.
Meanwhile Aaron Rockharrt sent back the members of his own family,
and strode solemnly into the drawing room, which was half darkened
by the closed window shutters.
"Now leave the room, sir; shut the door after you and stand on the
outside to keep off all intruders," commanded Mr. Rockharrt to the
servant who had admitted him.
When the door was closed upon him, Aaron Rockharrt discerned his
granddaughter, who sat in an easy chair in a dark corner of the back
drawing room, which was divided from the front by blue satin and
white lace portieres. Her deadly pallid face gleamed out from the
shadows in startling contrast to her jet black hair and the black dress
which, against all precedent, she wore on this the morning after her
marriage.
The old man of iron went up and stood before her, looking at her in
silence for a few moments.
"Corona Rothsay," he began, sternly, "what is the meaning of this
unparalleled situation?"
"I--I--do not know."
"You do not know where your husband is on the morning after his
marriage and on the day of his expected inauguration?"
"No; I do not know."
"You seem