"Ah! then wait here while I write a few lines to one of my father's old friends." "A letter? Yes, ma'am; but if you please, Master said that all letters were to be taken to him." "As they were before?" said Kate, with a light flashing in upon her clouded brain. "Yes, ma'am; he said so a week or two before you came." "Planned, planned, planned!" muttered Kate, despairingly. "Yes, ma'am, and of course I must take them to him. You see, he is my master, and I will say this of him--a better and kinder master never lived. Oh, my dear, don't be so young and foolish. You couldn't do better than what he wishes, and make him happy, and yourself, too." "Will you help me, woman, to get away from here? I will pay you enough to make you rich if you will," said Kate, desperately. "I will do anything I can for you, ma'am, that isn't going against Master; of that you may be sure." "Then will you post a couple of letters for me?" cried Kate, desperately. "No, ma'am, please, I mustn't do that." "Go away," cried Kate, fiercely now. "Leave me to myself." "Oh, my dear, don't, pray, go on like that I know you're young, and the idea frightens you; but it isn't such a very dreadful thing to be married to a real good man." Kate darted to the door, flung it open, and stood with flashing eyes, pointing outward. "Oh, yes, ma'am, of course I'll go; but do, pray, take my advice. You see, you're bound to marry him now, and--" The door was closed upon her, and Kate began to pace up and down, like some timid creature freshly awakened to the fact of its being caged, and grown desperate at the thought. "Helpless, and a prisoner!" she groaned to herself. "What shall I do? Is there no way of escape?" And once more the thought of Jenny Leigh and her brother came to her mind, and the feeling grew stronger that she might find help there. But it seemed impossible unless she could write and stamp a letter and throw it from the window, trusting to some one to pick it up and post it. No; the idea seemed weak and vain, and she cast it from her, as she paced up and down, with her hands clasped and pressed to her throbbing breast. "There is no help--no help!" she moaned, and then uttered a faint cry of alarm, for the door behind her was softly opened, and the idea that it was Garstang flashed through her brain as she looked wildly round. Becky's white tied-up face was just thrust in, and the door held tightly to, as if about to act as a perpendicular guillotine and shave through her neck. CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. Kate uttered a gasp of relief on finding her fear needless, and darted towards the door, when, to her despair, the grotesque head was snatched back. "Becky! Becky!" she cried piteously, as the door was closing; and she stood still, not daring to approach.