"I have also engaged a private sitting room, so that we need not go down to the public table, and dinner will be laid for us there in a few minutes. You need not lay off your wraps until you go there; and if there is any special dish that you would particularly like, my dear, I hope you will order it at once. Come." And he offered his arm to Mrs. Stillwater, to whom, indeed, he had addressed all his remarks. He led her from the public parlor, followed by his granddaughter. The little sitting room which Mr. Rockharrt had been able to engage was just across the hall. On entering they found the table laid for a party of three. Neither Mr. Rockharrt nor Cora had broken fast since their early breakfast at West Point. The old gentleman was very hungry. Dinner was soon served, and two of the party did full justice to the good things set before them; but Rose Stillwater could touch nothing. She had not recovered her appetite since her overdose of morphia. In vain her host recommended this or that dish, for the more appetizing the flavor, the more she detested them. At last when dinner was over, Mr. Rockharrt recommended her to retire to rest. She readily took his advice and bade him good night. Cora volunteered to see their guest to her chamber. "You will look at both rooms, Mrs. Stillwater, and take your choice between them," she said, as she led the guest into the new chamber engaged for one of the ladies. "Oh, my dear Cora, I do not care where I drop myself down, so that I get rest and sleep. Oh, Cora! I have been so frightened! Suppose I had died in that opium sleep!" exclaimed Mrs. Stillwater, speaking frankly for at least once in her life. "You should not have tampered with such a dangerous drug," said Mrs. Rothsay. "Oh, I took it to stop the maddening pain that seemed to be killing me," exclaimed Rose Stillwater, as she let herself drop into an easy chair; not speaking frankly this time, for she had taken the morphia to quiet her nerves, and enable her to decide upon some course by which she might avoid meeting with the Dean of Olivet again, and some excuse for withdrawing herself so suddenly from her traveling party. "So you will remain here?" inquired Cora. "Oh, yes. I would remain anywhere sooner than move another step." "Then I will help to get you to bed. Where is your bag?" "Bag? Bag? I--I don't know! I have not seen it since I fell into that stupor! It must be at the depot or at the hospital." "Then I will get you a night dress," said Cora. And then she ran off to her own room, and soon returned with a white cambric gown, richly trimmed with lace. When she had prepared her guest for bed, and put her into it, she lowered the gas and left her to repose. Then she went to her own room, satisfied to be alone with her memories once more. Soon after she heard the slow and heavy steps of her grandfather as he passed into his room. CHAPTER XVII. "A MAD MARRIAGE, MY MASTERS."