It had all been a mistake,--the sun dancing, the heavens bending down to aid and cheer her,--all had been a mistake, a lie.

There was nothing now for the rest of her life but this,--this brutality that clutched and shook her slender figure, this hatred that hissed venomous words in her ear.

This was the end, forever, till death should come to set her free.
But what was this?
what was happening?
For the hateful voice faltered, the grasp on her shoulder weakened, the blaze of the fierce eyes turned from her.

A cry was heard, a wild, inarticulate cry of rage, of defiance; the next moment something rushed past her like a flash; there was a brief struggle, a shout, an oath, then a heavy fall.

When the bewildered child could clear her eyes from the mist of fright that clouded them, Le Boss was lying on the ground; and towering over him like an avenging spirit, his blue eyes aflame, his strong hands clenched for another blow, stood Jacques De Arthenay.
Just what happened next, Marie never quite knew.