“Prisoner is a hard word,” answered the doctor. “Let us say, a guest under surveillance.” “Do you seriously mean that you intend to keep me shut up in this part of the house, at your will and pleasure?” I inquired, my heart sinking lower and lower at every word I spoke. “It is very spacious and airy,” said the doctor; “as for the lower part of the house, you would find no company there, so you can’t want to go to it.” “No company!” I repeated faintly. “No. My daughter went away this morning for change of air and scene, accompanied by my housekeeper. You look astonished, my dear sir--let me frankly explain myself. While you were the respectable son of Doctor Softly, and grandson of Lady Malkinshaw, I was ready enough to let my daughter associate with you, and should not have objected if you had married her off my hands into a highly-connected family. Now, however, when you are nothing but one of the workmen in my manufactory of money, your social position is seriously altered for the worse; and, as I could not possibly think of you for a son-in-law, I have considered it best to prevent all chance of your communicating with Alicia again, by sending her away from this house while you are in it. You will be in it until I have completed certain business arrangements now in a forward state of progress--after that, you may go away if you please. Pray remember that you have to thank yourself for the position you now stand in; and do me the justice to admit that my conduct toward you is remarkably straightforward, and perfectly natural under all the circumstances.” These words fairly overwhelmed me. I did not even make an attempt to answer them. The hard trials to my courage, endurance, and physical strength, through which I had passed within the last twelve hours, had completely exhausted all my powers of resistance. I went away speechless to my own room; and when I found myself alone there, burst out crying. Childish, was it not? When I had been rested and strengthened by a few hours’ sleep, I found myself able to confront the future with tolerable calmness. What would it be best for me to do? Ought I to attempt to make my escape? I did not despair of succeeding; but when I began to think of the consequences of success, I hesitated. My chief object now was, not so much to secure my own freedom, as to find my way to Alicia. I had never been so deeply and desperately in love with her as I was now, when I knew she was separated from me. Suppose I succeeded in escaping from the clutches of Doctor Dulcifer--might I not be casting myself uselessly on the world, without a chance of finding a single clew to trace her by? Suppose, on the other hand, that I remained for the present in the red-brick house--should I not by that course of conduct be putting myself in the best position for making discoveries?