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Updated: June 22, 2025
And you would have married him if it had not been for me! I would not permit you to wed him then, because you were in honor bound to Regulas Rothsay. I shall insist on your accepting him now, because poor Rothsay is in his grave, and this will be the best thing to do for you to help you out of harm's way from redskins and rattlesnakes and other reptiles.
You and I have had enough of falsehood and treachery! Let us shake the dust of civilization off our shoes! Come, Rule!" The amazement and confusion that followed the discovery of the mysterious disappearance of Governor-elect Regulas Rothsay, on the morning of the day of his intended inauguration, has been already described in an earlier chapter of this story.
This confidential mission, requiring as much power to take the initiative as it demanded a cool head, gave the Marquis opportunity to execute, with rapidity and decision, several master-strokes, which, in the following circumstances, won for him the cross of the Legion of Honor. The most audacious of the guerrillas who had devastated this fertile country was a chief called Regulas.
Regulas Rothsay was a man of the people, who did not know any ancestry behind his laboring father, who could not have told the names of his grandparents. The Duke of Cumbervale was descended from eight generations of noblemen. Cora Haught saw and felt this contrast between the two men, so opposite in birth, rank, person, manner, character, and cultivation.
The boy, surprised at the suddenness and the character of such an offer, blushed, thanked the little lady, and declined, then hesitated, reflected, and then, half reluctantly, half gratefully, consented. Cora was delighted, and frankly expressed her joy. "Oh, Regulas, I am so glad!
I had, however, another motive for coming to tell you of the strange manner of Regulas Rothsay during my interview with him a manner that does not seem to have been observed by any one else, for all speak and write of his health and extraordinarily good spirits on the evening of his arrival in the city only a few hours before I saw him, when he seemed very far from being in good health or good spirits.
On a ledge of rock above the spring, and facing them, stood a majestic man, clothed in coat of buckskin, faced and bordered with fur, leggings of buckskin and sandals of buffalo hide. On his head he wore a fur cap that half concealed his tawny hair. The face was fine, but sunburnt and half covered with a long, tawny beard. Corona looked up, and recognized Regulas Rothsay!
"Old Scythia," muttered the matron, shuddering and shrinking closer to the side of the bookkeeper, for the strange creature was reported and believed by the ignorant and superstitious of the neighborhood to be powerful and malignant. "Regulas Rothsay will never take his seat as governor of this State!"
The dust, that end of all joys, was charged with the chastisement of those poor little rose-leaves which had been guilty of chirping. There was in the convent a book which has never been printed except as a unique copy, and which it is forbidden to read. It is the rule of Saint-Benoit. An arcanum which no profane eye must penetrate. Nemo regulas, seu constitutiones nostras, externis communicabit.
"No; Regulas Rothsay has not an enemy in the world!" "Will he be killed on the railroad, or kidnapped?" "No!" "Will he be taken suddenly ill?" "No!" "What then in the fiend's name is to prevent his taking his seat to-morrow?" impatiently demanded the manager. "An evil so dire, so awful, so mysterious, that its like never happened on this earth!" "Arrest her, Mr. Ryland!
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