“He is; but he has interfered with me, and I hate him. It was after his birth I went off my head. Have I not good reason to dislike one who did me an injury of that sort? I loved the boy’s father. Pah! what am I talking about? Love was my undoing. Yes, I have had a strange history. I’ll tell you my story some day, Mrs. Adrian Rowton. You must come and see me some day in the Queen Anne wing.” “Well, let me take you home now,” said Nance in a soothing tone. “You have quite an agreeable way of speaking; and as you are not related to me by any blood ties, I am willing to be civil to you. Call out to that boy to get out of my sight—I know he is hiding behind that tree yonder. You are perfectly safe—I would not hurt a hair of your pretty head. But he is different.” “Go home, Murray,” called out Nance. He gave a low whistle in answer, and they heard his footsteps vanishing down the hill. “Now that is right,” said the mad woman, breathing a sigh of relief. “Now I can really talk to you. Would you like to know why I am not confined in an asylum? Would you like to know why I am kept in that dull Queen Anne wing? You could not guess the reason, but I will tell it to you.” “You shall some day,” said Nancy; “but now let me take you home.” “I will tell you before I go. I have followed you on purpose to tell you. Do you know what you did when you married Adrian Rowton?” “Made myself very happy,” said Nancy in a faltering voice. “So you think, you poor goose. Do you know what Adrian Rowton is?” “I would rather you did not tell me.” “Ha! ha! you are frightened, my pretty little dear. That good husband of yours is away from home and he won’t give you his address. Ha! ha! he says he will come back again unexpectedly, does he not? Ha! ha! ha! Well, so he will. Now you ask him a question when he returns—ask him what goes on in the Queen Anne wing at night—in the cellars, I mean. There are big cellars under that part of the house—ask him what they are used for. Ask him, too, why his mad sister is not put into an asylum; why she is used as a—ha! ha!—a blind—ha! ha!” “Now, madam, what nonsense this is. Come home this minute. You shall suffer for this conduct.” A strong voice rose on the air, firm steps were heard approaching. The poor mad lady glanced round with a wild expression; suddenly she clung close to Nance. “Save me, save me!” she gasped; “that is Leah’s voice. At times she is awfully cruel to me. Sometimes she beats me. Oh, save me!” The poor creature’s voice rang out on the air with a wild scream. CHAPTER XVII. CROSSLEY. The woman whom Nance had seen the night before came forward with quick strides. “None of this folly, Mrs. Cameron,” she said in a powerful voice. “Leave that young lady alone this minute, or you know perfectly well what will happen. Now take my arm. You have disobeyed me and you know you must be punished.” The miserable creature seemed to shrink and collapse into herself. She gave Nance a piteous look.