table, and kneeling there inhaled the pure seabreeze with a sense of luxury she had hardly before experienced. It seemed to bring life and strength and hope to her. Hope indeed that did not look far beyond the being mistress of her own energies; and every breath seemed to bring them back.

Refreshed, she sprang down to the floor. Again approaching the shawl she felt a sense of extreme repugnance to its odour; an odour which in the filthy hold she had been unable to distinguish, but which was now plainly perceptible. She rolled it together and was about throwing it through the aperture of the bedroom window, when it occurred to her that if she attached it to the hinge of the casement there was a possibility of its attracting notice from some other than Witham and his assistants. Poor as the chance seemed she would not neglect it.

A chest of drawers stood in the room, and one of these being open, disclosed articles of a lady's wardrobe, very delicate in fabric, and some adorned with costly lace. The dressing table, too, was fully furnished, and Helen gladly availed herself of the means afforded for combing out her long brown tresses and braiding them afresh it brought something of the feeling of having awoke from a long nightmare, and her refreshing toilette completed, she knelt at the bedside and earnestly sought for strength and help in her necessity. Never had day dawned upon her with greater need for the help she craved; but she arose self-possessed and calm.

Escape: she would think of that alone. She would set aside all the painful thoughts that thronged about her heart; thoughts of the one that had begun to love her, and whom she might never perhaps meet again as she had met; the probability of her grandfather's death; the grief of friends who loved her; all must be put aside; she must think of this one thing only, escape from the power of Witham.

Had the means of bursting the window open? She was still considering the question when the door on the staircase was unlocked, and a man, the same who had assisted to bear her from the vessel, came in with a lighted candle and some refreshments.

"I beg your pardon, miss," he said, "for letting you be in the dark so long. I was obliged to go with Mr. Witham to those rascals in the ship. We had left only one man in charge, and though they were tied, they were not so safe as if they were under hatches. They're bundled in now, and the lad has gone for the police."

"Where am I?" questioned Helen.

"Sure, miss, don't you know? This is Clon Castle. It's a bit of a place, but my master is fond of it, for he was born here, and so was his ancestors hundreds of years ago."

"Is this Ireland?" she next asked.

He was pouring her out some tea and paused a moment to glance at her before he answered "Sure, miss."

"How did Mr. Withan come here; by accident?"

"Dear, no, iniss; he'll tell you all about it when he comes. He got information from me that that old villain of a Malone had brought his dirty vessel here—but he'll tell you all about it do take some tea."

:

"Leave it, and I will try but tell me, why is that door on the staircase locked? I have been fastened in so long I quite hate anything of the sort."

"Oh, sure miss, that was only for your safety. We were obliged to leave you alone while we went ever so far; and there might be more of that rogue's crew in the neighbourhood."

"Then you will not fasten it now?"

"Sure, my master said you would be breaking your neck if you got lower, for there's no railings to the stairs, and its only those that are accustomed as can get up and down safe."

"Whose clothes are those in the drawers in the next room?"

"They was Mr. Witham's mother's, ma'am: she lived here awhile because Squire Witham would not let his marriage be known on account of his relations being at feud with hers. He was the young squire then."

"I heard that Mr. Witham was the son of a laundress." Helen observed.

"Oh, sure miss," the man answered, with a sort of grave astonishment, "who could have tould you such a big lie? It's maybe little Tim Witham the people was meanin'. Truth to say the squire was a sad wild fellow. Yes, its little Tim they meant: my master's mother was daughter of the great O'Donaghue, of Rassmore; and though when she died the Squire would not let his marriage be known out of fear of his uncle, who was at feud with the O'Donaghue, my master, which was his raal eldest son, has got his rights, and a noble master he is!"

"Things seemed to have been kept in good order here," Helen next remarked; "I could almost have ventured to put on some of the pretty things in the drawers; they looked so fresh and clean."

"Yes, miss, and to be sure you might: my sister, as is house-keeper here, had them out and aired them only two days ago-as is master's wish should be done now and then, for he likes to think of his mother."

"Mr. Witham would have thought it a great liberty if I had."

Oh, sure, miss; and I'm certain you would be welcome to the best thing he had; for he's an open landed, open hearted, gentleman; and to see how he did fight for you this day! Oh, miss, I'm sure it's yourself might do anything with him."

"I hope he means to be a good friend. Will you send your sister to me?"

"Sure, miss, and it's the greatest misfortune in the world that she should not be to the fore, but my brother Dennis's children are down

with the fever, and she went yesterday to nurse them."

"Will you open the window for me? I like the freshness of the air after being so long confined in a close hold."

"Surely, miss.”

He went up to the window and appeared to try at the fastening. "There's somethin' got rusty about it I'm thinkin'," he said; "I'll bring a little oil in the mornin': see, miss, if I leave the door open, you can have the air?"

There was a small slit in the thick stone wall near the head of the staircase: it had once been glazed, but was now certainly in a condition to admit air, though giving no possibility of egress, and affording only a view of an opposite wall.

Helen's last request was, that, since the bousekeeper was absent, some other woman might be sent to her. "I thank you very much for your civility," she said, "but I have always been accustomed to have some woman near me, and cannot feel at ease without."

The answer was that he would do his best to make her comfortable, but he could not leave to look for a woman until his master returned.

Although so plausibly attentive and civil, there was an evil look about the man which made her feel his departure a relief, She would have preferred, however, that he had left less suddenly, since his so doing had frustrated her intention of following him in time to see what the opened door might reveal.

CHAP. LIV.

ΤΟ

He

despair, but to ponder with all the coolness she could command what would be the most hope ful course in dealing with her gaoler. That he had long purposed this captivity she believed: Grant had been but a tool in his hands. was the man she had all along suspected, the principal of the band who had entered Darliston Hall. He had then obtained knowledge of her prospects of fortune, and had watched for an opportunity and stolen her with a view to the possession of that fortune. He was base enough for any evil; but her money, not herself, was his aim. How should she deal with him? Should she tell of her marriage?

She had thought this would be final in regard to Grant's pursuit; experience had shown her it could be vain. She had heard that divorced wives could be married. Was her marriage then no protection from the daring and the vile? If Grant, who had been hitherto truthful, honest, even accounted honourable, could set aside consideration of it, what had she to hope for from Witham?

She had not much time for thought; but she had framed some resolutions, formed some idea of what her course should be, when the key again turned in the heavy door, turned after as well as before it opened, and the same moment Witham entered the room; entered smiling, and expressing most hospitable delight at being enabled to afford shelter to her distress.

She did not take his offered hand, but bowed her acknowledgment of his fervent declaration of welcome, and said:

"You have been the means of relieving me from a most odious imprisonment, Mr. Witham, and I thank you much. My first anxiety must be now to return to my grandfather."

"Alas! my dear Miss Dalziel," was the

MEET ARDEN

MAINWARING'S.

Helen conjectured that the apartments occupied a floor in a small square tower. About a third of the space was given to the bedroom, which was long and narrow; that remaining would have made a moderate sized sitting-room, but was encroached upon by the stair-head and a projecting chimney-piece opposite. The table in the centre left scarcely more than enough room to pass to the door, standing as it did more than half within these two projections; but a clear space for walking up and down from the window to the opposite wall was by this arrangement available.

Wainwright lives, his reason is completely unsettled. He has had, I understand, no consciousness of your absence, having taken up the strange idea that some young lady-a Miss Ainslie, is it?"

66

Miss Alice Ainslie?" Helen suggested. Yes; that she is the daughter he lost; your mother in fact. See, here is a newspaper speaking of it, and he drew one from his pocket. It was the Marsham Advertiser. Helen longed for its possession, but at first he held it back.

"You had better not, indeed, my dear Miss Dalziel," he said, "it would only distress you to read the uncharitable comments-This is the passage."

He read a few lines descriptive of the scene at the Hall on occasion of Miss Alice Ainslie's arrival.

"Let me see the rest, Mr. Witham," Helen asked. "It is easy for me to surmise that evil has been said of my disappearance."

With a show of reluctance he let her take the newspaper out of his hands.

an escapade." Allusion was made to her engagement to a gentleman having connections among the highest in the county, to whom this "esclandre" must bring great annoyance, although no doubt efforts would be made to suppress the fact that any such affair had been "on the tapis." It must in any case, but for certain involvements on the part of the intended bridegroom, have been regarded as a gross "mésalliance," The whole paragraph was worded with the fullest force of a country newspaper revelling in a local scandal; and, if Helen had not braced her resolution to the utmost and read it in the full consciousness whose eyes were upon her, she must have suffered bitterly. But she was looking for facts; this did no more than authenticate what had been said in regard to her grandfather; and that, sad as it was, brought a portion of comfort to her heart; he had not thought she could so forsake him.

She handed the newspaper across the table, saying:

"Thank you, sir, I anticipated what would be said by the wonder-loving people of Marsham. And now, as I do not wish to give them any real occasion for blaming my conduct, I must thank you for the kind hospitality with which you have received me, and request your further assistance in enabling me immediately to commence my journey homewards."

'My dear Miss Dalziel, I place myself most devotedly at your feet and assure you that there is nothing within the bounds of possibility I would not willingly undertake to serve you. The police will probably be here shortly, and under their escort you can travel with some safety. This is a sad wild country; there are, I fear, more of those bad men about besides the three we captured, and until the police arrive I can offer no safety for you beyond these walls. My servant has gone in search of a woman to attend upon you. Meanwhile, though only ourselves are in the place, I am certain you feel every assurance you are in the presence of a gentleman, of one who would sooner perish than cause you to regret you are under the protection of his honour. Oh, my dear Miss Dalziel, had circumstances been more favourable to me, had the last remaining mystery connected with my parents' marriage been dispelled but a few days earlier, Grant Wainwright should never have been permitted either to have shocked your sensibilities by tearing you so roughly from your grandfather, or, which doubtless is even worse to you, have made your reputation the sport of a scandalloving world. Long have I watched over you with humble devotion, eagerly desiring the time when I could come forward in my true character asheir to the earldom of Clondace. Certain that the time was close at hand when every proof would be clearly adduced and admitted, I have refrained from reminding you of my existence, save by such language as flowers can speak; or, when abroad, by responding in photographs to your precious, though puzzling favour. Of Grant Wainwright I am avenged;

and if, alas! I have failed to save you from the evil that has come upon your fair fame, I offer you all the reparation in my power-my hand. Miss Dalziel you shall be my wife! I will shield you from every contumely, I will let the world know that one who has watched you well knows how rightly to estimate your worth. Those glorious eyes shall look disdain on your contemners when shadowed by the coronet of a countess! Fear nothing my beloved, my long adored idol !"

He had knelt, seeking to take her hand; she drew back with a cold demeanour, saying:

"Pray stand on your feet, Mr Witham, I think we shall understand each other all the better if you keep to the fact that I am the heiress of Darliston, and no divinity."

"My charming girl, do you think—"

"I think you know enough of me to be assured I am no coward, and am not likely to let the fear of wicked tongues drive me to a wicked act. Mr. Witham, you need not be offended when I tell you that marriage with you is out of the question, impossible to me. My affections are given past recal to another." "Distraction! Do you tell me that to my face?"

"I tell it as a simple matter of fact. Were you the very perfection of humanity I could not accede to your proposal. My love is already bestowed."

"On whom?"

"On one whom I must still love, let him think what evil he may of me."

"You mean that worthless wretch, young Mainwaring!" he said, and burst into such a string of scandalous accusation, as, though totally disbelieved by Helen, from its coarseness nearly passed her endurance to bear with any show of calmness. She did, however, keep silence till he had come to an end, then answered:

"It seems to me, that considering how his own reputation appears to have suffered, Mr. Mainwaring may be more inclined to think lightly of the world's scandal than I had considered probable."

"Think lightly of the blemish on your repu tation this has brought? Oh, Miss Dalziel, you know little of the world to suppose that! Men, who are dissolute themselves, are the last to extenuate such matters in their wives. The world can, and does, wink at vicious courses in the gentleman who has talent to be useful and can put on a fair appearance on proper occasions, but the world would never countenance Arden Mainwaring in marrying one whose reputation has suffered, has been so broadly commented upon as yours has been in that lying paper. He does not dream of it, or he would have come forward before this."

Poor Helen's heart sank under the bitter sense that his expressed opinion was one too likely to be well grounded; but she had counted the cost before. She took a few minutes to rally her heart's strength and then spoke again :

“Mr. Witham, it appears we have all suffered

in our turn in the world's estimation, but this cannot alter present circumstances. I would return to my grandfather, you promise me assistance to that end. Leave me then until the police arrive, but do not lock the door after you. It seems too much as if you were one of those who have taken part against me; as if I were your prisoner."

"My prisoner? Ha, ha!" he laughed. "A very good idea! Really, now I think it, you are my prisoner. What a delightful office to be in charge of such a captive. I declare I never was so happily situated before. I am shut up, sole companion with lovely Helen Dalziel, and may be shut up here, it is impossible to say for how long!"

"For no longer, I conclude," said Helen, in the same cold tone, "than you please to remain. If I may not leave here you can when you please."

"No, indeed, Miss Dalziel, I can't. I should not be safe sitting alone downstairs, I should not indeed. And there is no comfort there. This is positively the only habitable room for a gentleman. You won't turn me out of my own room, fair lady?"

66

Mr. Witham, I am wearied and distressed; your mirth is very unwelcome to me. Let me depart; I am willing to take what risk there may be beyond your dwelling."

"Now really, Miss Dalziel, can you be so cruel, so barbarous, as to talk that way! I thought you trusted me. Now do just sit down and listen to reason. You know, my sweetest girl, I love you to madness-to adoration-"

Helen interrupted. "Let me put an end to this. I have given you my reasons for not listening to talk of love from you. I am a plain, matter-of-fact person" (she was trying to be so; crushing her heart and its sensibilities under a strong necessity). "Let me know if any money arrangement can be made whereby I can be freed from an importunity so distasteful to me, and set at liberty. I see I am in fact a prisoner. I mean to infer nothing beyond that fact. I plainly tell you, knowing it was at one time a practice to steal heiresses, that no power on earth, no compulsion you can use, will avail to make me your wife. I swear it: and you cannot touch my fortune unless I am brought to accept you as my husband. Some arrangements, however, I think can be made. Tell me what terms you are willing to accept. You can trust to my honourably fulfilling what I undertake."

Had Witham been able to form an adequate idea of the value of Helen's word or Helen's oath, he might have hesitated here. But he knew that promises made under such compulsory circumstances could not stand good in law, and he held but lightly her declared resolution.

"Miss Dalziel," he said; "is it wise of you to insult me by talking of money as if that were my object? I scorn the idea! You dare to insult my feelings when I lay my heart at your

feet. Let me remind you that while completely in my power I have treated you with all deference and respect; you have not treated me as I deserve to be treated. I have willingly offered to reinstate you in your position in society, nay, to raise you much higher, by uniting your fate with mine. It is not many gentlemen would make you that sort of offer now. And in return, how am I treated? Really you do not know rightly how to appreciate the consideration I evinced towards you. What if it occurred to me to play the sultan instead of the slave? Miss Dalziel, what trifle is that you are in the habit of wearing near your heart? I saw you take it out once on the rocks at Darliston, and I thought you kissed it. Allow me to look at it." "Mr. Witham," Helen said, with all the calmness she could command; " 'you have said you are a gentleman; I am in some sort your guest; or if a prisoner, still a woman, and worthy of your forbearance."

"I am only asking a trifle, but I mean that you should grant it, if only to prove to you that what I have said is fact, that you have no power to deny what I choose to ask. Give me-"

A clatter on the roof interrupted him something sounding like a falling tile struck against the edge of the terrace. Witham rushed to the window, and as he turned, Helen remarked that he put his hand on something shining in his breast pocket, she thought it the silver mounting of a pistol. A number of birds flew against the panes and winged their way about the tower.

"Oh, the pigeons," Witham said; "I had quite forgotten them."

He took out a key, and unlocking the window, stepped on to the terrace; rather hastily re-entering when he saw Helen following.

"No getting down there with the cords of a bed," he remarked, as he closed and relocked the window. Helen returned to her place at the further side of the table, and he placed himself as before, opposite to her.

"Now, Miss Dalziel," he said, " are you going to oblige me with a sight of your little miniature, or whatever it may be? The candle is burning down ; we shall be in the dark presently.'

"If," said Helen, "I prove to you that it is impossible that I should marry you, will you be content to take money and set me free?"

"Oh, if you prove to me that it is impossible." "That which you have desired to see is my wedding ring. I am already married!"

"Whew!" he gave a long whistle. "You are married? What, to young Mainwaring ?" "Yes, I am his wife."

"Here's a pretty state of a case for young Mainwaring's wife to be in; what would my lady, his mother, say to seeing us now? What will young Mainwaring say? Only he's done with you already on account of your going off with Grant Wainwright. Faith then, if you are really married, we must have a divorce."

"Mr. Mainwaring will doubtless obtain a divorce, then alone would it be possible for me