"I had the confession which separates us from her own lips--I tell you I would not have believed any other testimony. Don't struggle so, Elsie--lie still." The girl fought with him like an insane creature--she had no self control or reason--it was inability to speak which kept her from shrieking out in Elizabeth's defence. She could only gasp for breath, and when words did come, it was that broken cry: "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" "You must try to understand me, Elsie! You are all I have left in the world--oh, Elsie, Elsie! She has gone forever, and I loved her so--I loved her so. You and I must live on as best we can--it is only for you, child, that I live at all." "Only bring her back--clear it all up--the truth--the truth at last! Oh, Grantley, I----" Her words were so indistinct that he could not gather their meaning; she was struggling more fiercely than ever, and it required all his strength to hold her. "If you love me, Elsie, strive to be calm! Oh, think of my trouble, my anguish--my sister, my sister!" "Only send for her--call her here!" "Be quiet and I will search, but she went off last night, I do not know where!" Elsie gave one frightful cry and sank back in his arms insensible again. Her swoon was so death-like that it seemed as if life had gone out for ever. Just as Elizabeth had raised her and carried her into her own room, so did Grantley Mellen carry her now, stricken by a fear so horrible that his past agony paled under it. What if she were dead--if she should wake a raving maniac, and all from the evil influence of that woman. He called no assistance; he watched over Elsie in that lonely chamber, trying every remedy he could find, but for a long time his efforts were unavailing; she lay there, white and cold, as if the snowy counterpane had been her winding sheet. Just as he was calling her name in a last frenzied burst of grief, Elsie opened her eyes. She was too feeble for speech, but she remembered everything clearly, and made a vain effort to rise. "You must not talk, Elsie; don't stir--you will hurt yourself!" He searched on the toilet table, found a bottle of laudanum, and administered as large a dose as he dared; he knew that the effects could not be so dangerous as her present suffering. He sat down by the bed, folding his arms about her, calling her by every endearing name that his tenderness and fear could suggest, striving to soothe her into slumber. Elsie would lie quiet for a few moments, then begin to struggle and cry out, till it seemed to Mellon that she would die before the opiate could take effect. The potion worked at length; she lay back on the pillows white and still--her eyes stared drearily about the chamber once more, and then closed--she had fallen into a heavy sleep. For a long hour Grantley Mellen remained on his knees by her bedside, where he had fallen. He rose at length. Victoria was knocking at the door, and warning her young mistress that breakfast was on the table.