“How thoughtless of me, Miss Douglas, to keep you standing all this time. I suppose you will be obliged to remain here until daylight, as there is no way for you to get back into the Hall except by going outside from here, and, of course, it will be useless to attempt that until the household are astir. If you can be comfortable here for an hour longer, I will do my best to entertain you. I have books, and all the latest periodicals, and there is an easy-chair by the fire, which I know you will enjoy.” He led her toward the fire, which really made the somewhat dismal apartment very cheerful. Her thoughts were filled with this young man; she longed to know more of his sad history, and why his life had been rendered such a blank. It could not be that he was really insane, and that it was necessary to confine him thus! Was she with a madman? The thought for the moment startled her so that she actually felt faint. But, no; one look into that calm, patient face, with its deep, intelligent eyes, completely banished all fear, and left her more in the dark than ever. “You are very weary,” the young man remarked, seeing her listless attitude. “No,” she answered, smiling; “but I am wondering how my explanation regarding my absence and sudden reappearance will be received by Lady Ruxley.” “Ah! I had not thought of that,” he replied, with a painful start, and a vivid flush crimsoning his white face. “You are an inmate of the family, then?” he asked, thoughtfully. “I am companion to Lady Ruxley, although before coming to her I was governess in the family of that woman who entrapped me into yonder cell.” She then related to him something of her troubles with Mrs. Coolidge. “And it is her daughter who is to marry m—— Sir Charles?” the young man asked, deeply interested. “Yes.” “Is she anything like her mother?” “Very much like her,” Brownie said, dryly. “A fine wife he will have, I fear!” he answered, with curling lips. “I am very sorry for him,” the young girl replied, gently. “He is very nice, I expect,” said the cripple, his lips quivering painfully, while he shaded his face with his hand. “He is indeed a very fine young man, I am told.” “Would you mind telling me what he is like?” and Brownie wondered why his tones were husky and tremulous. She described him as well as she could, and concluded: “To sum it all up, he is very handsome, and as good—they say—and noble in proportion.” A heavy sigh was the only reply, and then he appeared to be sunk in reverie. After an awkward silence, he suddenly aroused himself and said: