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Joan, The Curate.
sprang on the back of a stout horse which was waiting at the gate, and were away over the marsh to the new haunt they had made, before Tregenna had had time to recover his wits.
He had done with her, forever; but there was still trouble in store for the representatives of law and order, while the daring, wicked spirit walked the earth in the flesh.
"Are you jealous still, Joan?" whispered Tregenna, in his bride's ear.
"No. But—I'm thankful she's married, Harry," was the fervent answer.
"And I," returned Tregenna with equal fervor, "am thankful 'tis no longer my duty to cope with her and her tricks. For, faith, I believe she's in league with the very powers of darkness!"
THE END.
