Audrey's face grew whiter and whiter as she spelt out the painfully written words, and, as she ended, she staggered back against the wall and covered her face with her hands. Any thought of marriage, save as a vague sort of fairy tale, was so remote from her mind, that this formal negotiating of her destiny struck her like a blow, and she felt absolutely sick with the shock. To her proud and virginal mind it mattered nothing that this was an old story, forgotten for two years past. It was nothing to her that marriages at that time were almost invariably a matter of family arrangement. She had been brought up with so much more personal liberty and independence than most girls of her day, that the idea that she had been talked over, bargained for, was unendurable! And gradually, as the whole plan came home to her, a burning flush crept over her face. She felt outraged, insulted. Wild indignation with every one filled her heart. Her grandfather, General Harrison, Richard, every one was detestable. No one was to be trusted! They had dared to talk of her, to dispose of her, as if she were a mere chattel! Better poverty, neglect, anything, than such an insult. But then there rushed back on her with a sudden revulsion of feeling, all that might have been, all she had once possessed, and she dashed the letter on the ground and burst into a passion of tears. Alone, friendless, she realized her position--she was brought face to face with all she had lost. While she looked on her grandfather as a feeble old man depending on her young strength, he had foreseen how helpless she would be one day, he had known what a woman needed, he had been planning her future for her. A future of wealth and dignity, a gallant and handsome young husband, loving kins-folk, all as gay as a fairy tale, and all vanished like a fairy dream! Her tears were partly remorseful--that she could have been angered at any thought of his, shamed her! But she could not but give some sorrow to all that was gone--her grandfather dead and forgotten, her father in exile, she herself a prisoner, General Harrison--she shuddered to remember his fate, Richard Harrison--"Alas, I had not thought Captain Harrison was one of those summer friends who forsook us when our wealth was lost! 'Tis pity I should have discovered what he hath made such good speed to forget!" She stood a while sunk in thought, then she shook herself. "Fie, what a peevish maid I grow! This was but talk between grandfather and the poor general; and then grandfather died and the general ran mad on the Fifth Monarchy, and was put in prison, and, most like, Captain Harrison never heard a word of the matter! 'Tis midsummer madness to dwell on it now. Fie! Audrey Perrient, a modest maiden should not waste thoughts on such matters! But 'tis lucky I knew not of this when I found him fainting in the woods, or I protest I should have been too shamefaced a fool to have succoured him?" CHAPTER X. ESCAPE.