maurice returned home after a somewhat stormy interview with mrs. dallas. for once the mother of isabella was roused out of her habitual indifference, and she refused absolutely to accept alymer as her son-in-law. in vain the lovers implored her to give some reason for her strange refusal, but beyond expressing a personal dislike for maurice she declined to explain her conduct. the young man saw in this uncalled for behavior the hostile influence of dido.

"it is because that black woman distrusts me that you object," he said, when mrs. dallas had talked herself hoarse. "i wonder that an english lady, a christian and an educated person should be dominated by that uncivilized creature."

"dido has nothing to do with my refusal," said the widow, coldly, "and although i take her advice in some things i do not in this. i do not wish isabella to marry you, and i request you to leave my house--"

"mother!" cried isabella, with a pale face.

"and never come back to it again!" finished mrs. dallas, sharply.

maurice went to the window of the room which opened on to the veranda and put on his hat.

"as a gentleman, i must accept your dismissal," he said, quietly; "but i decline to give up isabella."

"and i," cried the girl, "swear to remain true to maurice."

"you'll do nothing of the sort," said her mother, violently. "i forbid you even to think of that young man. you shall marry whom i choose."

"dr. etwald, i suppose?"

"no. mr. sarby."

"david!" ejaculated maurice, in an astonished tone. "you wish isabella to marry him?"

"yes. he loves isabella much more than you do, and he asked permission--which you didn't--to pay his addresses to her. i consented, and so," mrs. dallas raised her voice, "he shall marry her."

"i refuse to marry mr. sarby," said isabella, vehemently. "i hate him!"

"that is no matter," replied her mother, coldly. "you must marry him."

"must!" repeated maurice, with great indignation.

"yes, mr. alymer. must! must! must! if you want an explanation of that you can ask--" here mrs. dallas paused with a strange smile and added slowly: "major jen."

"the major! my guardian!" cried alymer, quite thunderstruck. "is he against me?"

"ask him."

"i don't believe it."

"ask him," repeated mrs. dallas.

"nor i," said isabella. "the major is a kind man, and he wants to see me happy. he is--"

"that is enough," interrupted mrs. dallas, rising in a cold fury. "i want no further speeches from you. go to your room, isabella. mr. alymer, your way lies yonder," and with a swift gesture she pointed to the window.

resigning himself to the inevitable, maurice gave one glance at isabella, and went outside with a heavy heart. dido was standing upon the veranda with her eyes glowing like two coals. yet there was an ill-concealed expression of triumph in her gaze, which maurice, in his then disturbed and angered state of mind, could ill brook. he paused abruptly as he passed by her, and asked a direct question:

"why do you hate me. dido?"

the negress glared savagely at him.

"voodoo!" said she, in a harsh voice.

"what do you mean by that jargon?" he demanded, in angry tones.

"voodoo!" said dido again, and showed her teeth in anything but a pleasant fashion.

"bah! you black parrot!" muttered maurice scornfully and turned upon his heel. as he vanished down the walk dido clapped her hands together with great satisfaction and began to sing in low tones. her song was barbaric in words and strange beyond all telling in the music. it rose and fell, and moaned and drawled, in a curiously painful manner. in the drawing-room mrs. dallas had risen to her feet at the first deep contralto note, and now stood rocking herself to and fro with an expression of alarm on her face. isabella was terrified in her turn by dido's song and her mother's strange conduct, though by this time she should have been used to these eccentricities.

"mother, what is it? what does dido sing?"

mrs. dallas, closing her eyes, continued rocking herself to and fro, saying but one word in answer.

"voodoo!" she said, and that was all. but it was enough for isabella. she shrieked and ran out of the room. then dido, still singing, appeared at the window, and looked at mrs. dallas with an expression of triumph.

"why do you sing the death song?" asked mrs. dallas, opening her eyes,

"because de master hab doomed dat yaller-ha'r," said dido, and continued her song.

in the meantime maurice walked slowly homeward, puzzling out in his own mind as to what could be the meaning of these strange things. he could not understand why mrs. dallas objected to him as a son-in-law; nor could he surmise the meaning of the mysterious word, "voodoo," pronounced so significantly by dido, however, he saw plainly that the negress was the disturbing element in the dallas household, and by a half-hypnotic control over the weak will of her mistress, she could act as she pleased. the widow had been born and brought up in the barbadoes. she was a half-educated woman of feeble intellect, and having been left during the time her mind and character were being formed solely to the society of black servants, she had imbibed--not unnaturally--many of the debased superstitions of africa. dido knew this, and by means of her claims to a knowledge of obi, she was enabled to rule mrs. dallas, and also, as has been stated, to exercise a powerful influence over the plastic mind of isabella.

"but i'll spoil her designs in that quarter," muttered maurice, as his thoughts led him to this conclusion. "isabella shall not be dragged down to the level of her mother. i shall marry her, and so destroy the influence of that vile negress."

this was easier said than done, as maurice, simple and upright in conduct and character, was no match for the unscrupulous machinations of dido. she hated the young man, and was determined that he should not marry her nursling. but whether she had, like mrs. dallas, a preference for david over etwald, maurice could not determine. the more he thought over affairs, the more incoherent and complicated did they become; so alymer gave up the task in despair. then it occurred to him that mrs. dallas had referred him to major jen; so to his guardian maurice went the moment he arrived at the big house. but to his surprise, the major was not to be found.

"major gone out, sir," explained jaggard, to whom maurice applied for information. "he got a message from dr. etwald, and went to see him. be back to dinner, sir, i b'lieve."

"where is mr. sarby?"

"gone over to brance hall, sir."

"ho, ho!" thought maurice, as he turned away. "so david has gone to see lady meg and the countess. now, if he is in love with isabella, and mrs. dallas favors his suit, i wonder why he acts in that way?"

the question he could not answer, so dismissing it from his memory, he retired to the smoking-room with a pipe and a novel. when jen and david returned he intended to question both, and, if possible, get to the bottom of these thickening mysteries.

"hang it!" soliloquized maurice over his book, "since yesterday everything seems to have gone wrong. that negress and dr. etwald are at the bottom of affairs. but i can't see their reasons for mixing things up so."

then he laid aside his book to think, and through the smoke curling from his pipe he stared idly at the opposite wall. it chanced to be that upon which the barbaric weapons before alluded to were arranged, and conspicuous among them glittered the golden handle of the devil-stick. recalling the mention of voodoo, and etwald's reference to african witchcraft, maurice connected in his own mind the devil-stick with those barbarisms, and on the impulse of the moment he rose to examine the magic wand. handling it carefully--for he dreaded the poison, although it was said to be dried up--he wondered if dido could make use of it were it in her possession.

"i heard mrs. dallas say that dido's people came from ashantee," soliloquized maurice, "so i have no doubt she can work the infernal thing. perhaps she knows enough to fill the bag with fresh poison. if she did so, i wouldn't trust myself near her. she would be sure to experiment on me."

at this moment major jen, looking slightly worried, entered the room, and seeing the devil-stick in the hand of maurice, he stopped short with an ejaculation of surprise.

"you are looking at that thing, maurice?" said he, wonderingly. "now that is strange."

"why should it be strange?"

"because i have just been talking about it with dr. etwald."

"oh!" said maurice, his thoughts flying back to the mysterious influence which he had seen etwald exercise over dido. "and what was the doctor saying?"

major jen threw himself into a chair and frowned.

"a great deal. he saw the devil-stick the other night--"

"last night?"

"yes, last night, and to-day he sent a note asking if i would ride over and see him this afternoon. i did so, and he then explained that he wished to buy that thing."

"the devil-stick? why?"

"i can't say. he explained that he had been in the barbadoes, and that he took a great interest in the subject of african fetish worship. he had heard of these 'wands of sleep,' as they are called, and greatly wished to obtain one, but he was unable to do so. since seeing mine he has been seized with a desire to possess it."

"why?" said maurice again.

"as a curiosity, i suppose. i've told you all he told me. but i refused to sell it to him, and he seemed greatly vexed, a display of irritation which in its turn vexed me. i was quite annoyed when i left him."

"why don't you wish to sell it, uncle jen?"

"because it is a dangerous thing to handle. although the poison is dried up, yet there may be enough in it to kill a man. if i parted with it and anyone was injured by it i should never forgive myself. pray put it up, maurice; i dislike to see you touch it. to-night, after dinner, i shall lock it up in a safe place. david is right; it should not be on the wall there."

"david has gone over to see lady meg."

"yes. i don't think he will be back until after dinner," said jen, rising. "so you and i had better sit down as soon as we are dressed. i am very hungry."

"uncle jen, i want to ask you something."

"what is it?" asked the major, pausing at the door.

"do you wish david to marry isabella dallas?"

jen hesitated.

"i really can't say," he said. "that is a matter which lies in the hands of the girl herself. if she likes you better than david--"

"she does."

"what! have you spoken to her?"

"i have, and to mrs. dallas, who declines to sanction our engagement. she wants isabella to marry david, and said--"

"i can guess what she said," interrupted jen, hastily. "no more of this till after dinner, my dear lad. then i'll explain all."

"explain what?"

"why mrs. dallas wants isabella to marry david." not another word would the major say on the subject at that moment, so maurice was forced to seek his room in a very unsatisfied frame of mind. however, as he thought, here was one mystery about to be explained, and that was a comfort. as jen prophesied, david did not return to dinner, and maurice had a tête-à-tête with his guardian. but they talked of indifferent things, and it was not until they were once more in the smoking-room with cigars and coffee that the major consented to speak on the subject of mrs. dallas' strange conduct.

"now, my boy, i'm ready to tell--" here jen stopped and looked blankly at the wall.

"what is the matter?" asked maurice, in surprise.

"the devil-stick!" gasped jen, pointing a shaking finger at the wall. "the devil-stick!"

maurice looked--the devil-stick was gone!