When I asked Fenton to relate his experiences I did not mean him to do so at such length. But there, as he has written it, and as writing is not a labor of love with him, let it go. When Madeline Rowan found the bed by the side of which she had thrown herself in an ecstasy of grief untenanted, she knew in a moment that she was the victim of a deep-laid plot. Being ignorant of Carriston's true position in the world she could conceive no reason for the elaborate scheme which have been devised to lure her so many miles from her home, and make a prisoner of her. A prisoner she was. Not only was the door locked upon her, but a slip of paper lay on the bed. It bore these words, "No harm is meant you, and in due time you will be released. Ask no questions, make no foolish attempts at escape, and you will be well-treated." Upon reading this the girl's first thought was one of thankfulness. She saw at once that the reported accident to her lover was but an invention. The probabilities were that Carriston was alive, and in his usual health. Now that she felt certain of this, she could bear anything. From the day on which she entered that room, to that on which we rescued her, Madeline was to all intents and purposes as close a prisoner in that lonely house on the hill-side as she might have been in the deepest dungeon in the world. Threats, entreaties, promises of bribes availed nothing. She was not unkindly treated--that is, suffered no absolute ill-usage. Books, materials for needle-work, and other little aids to while away time were supplied. But the only living creatures she saw were the women of the house who attended to her wants, and, on one or two occasions, the man whom Carriston asserted he had seen in his trance. She had suffered from the close confinement, but had always felt certain that sooner or later her lover would find her, and effect her deliverance. Now that she knew he was alive she could not be unhappy. I did not choose to ask her why she had felt so certain on the above points. I wished to add no more puzzles to the one which, to tell the truth, exercised, even annoyed me, more than I care to say. But I did ask her if, during her incarceration, her jailer had ever laid his hand upon her. She told me that some short time after her arrival a stranger had gained admittance to the house. Whilst he was there the man had entered her room, held her arm, and threatened her with violence if she made any outcry. After hearing this, I did not pursue the subject.