Miss Meeke and Wynnette invited and conducted her upstairs to the best bedchamber, situated in front of the house, with windows overlooking the bay; furnished with maple wood and blue chintz, and warmed by a fine, open, wood fire. Wynnette drew an armchair to the fire, and made the panting guest sit down in it, while Miss Meeke looked to the washstand, to see if there were water and towels enough. "I have to get one of you young ones to lend me the loan of a hair brush and comb, for I didn't bring any. If I had knowed I was coming, I'd 'a' done it. But, Lord! no one ever knows! And there! I have just remembered as I never took leave of that good soul, Miss Sibby! And whatever will she think of me, a-going off at a tangent in this onthankful manner?" meandered the woman, talking partly to her attendants and partly to herself. "Oh, she will say you were so flambergasted by the rumpus--I mean confused and excited by the occasion--that you forgot to bid her good-by," said Wynnette. "You will find new combs and hair brushes, and everything else you will require, on the dressing table, or on the washstand," Miss Meeke explained. While the governess and her pupil were doing all they could to make the stranger guest comfortable in the spare room, Mrs. Force, assisted by her woman, Luce, and followed by Elva, supported her helpless daughter up to Odalite's own room, where they undressed and put her to bed. Odalite soon fell into a deep sleep. Her mother sat down by her bed to watch, and told Elva to go downstairs and help to entertain their guest; and told Luce to leave the room, but to remain within call. When the lady was left alone with her sleeping child, and had time to collect her thoughts, she was divided between a sense of relief in her daughter's unexpected rescue from the martyrdom of an abhorrent marriage, and terror as to what the archenemy and artful plotter might do next. Would he pocket his shame and go back to his own land? Would he linger in the neighborhood, stubborn, defiant and aggressive, as he had shown himself in the church? Above all, would he attempt to see her again, to get any other advantage over her from the power he possessed in the knowledge of her secret? He could not insist on any marital rights over Odalite--that was quite certain now. Would he demand money as the price of his silence? If so, he should have all the money she could command of her own by the sale of her jewels, laces and India shawls, on condition that he should leave the country. And still her thoughts reverted to the great relief that she felt in the fact that he could no longer persecute Odalite. The proof of his former marriage in the substantial presence of his living wife forbade that. This latter suggested another question: