Alban ran to meet her. She dropped on the grass before he could cross the short distance which separated them. As he raised her in his arms she looked at him wildly, and murmured and muttered in the vain attempt to speak. “Look at me again,” he said. “Don’t you remember the man who had some talk with you to-day?” She still stared at him vacantly: he tried again. “Don’t you remember Miss Emily’s friend?” As the name passed his lips, her mind in some degree recovered its balance. “Yes,” she said; “Emily’s friend; I’m glad I have met with Emily’s friend.” She caught at Alban’s arm--starting as if her own words had alarmed her. “What am I talking about? Did I say ‘Emily’? A servant ought to say ‘Miss Emily.’ My head swims. Am I going mad?” Alban led her to one of the garden chairs. “You’re only a little frightened,” he said. “Rest, and compose yourself.” She looked over her shoulder toward the house. “Not here! I’ve run away from a she-devil; I want to be out of sight. Further away, Mister--I don’t know your name. Tell me your name; I won’t trust you, unless you tell me your name!” “Hush! hush! Call me Alban.” “I never heard of such a name; I won’t trust you.” “You won’t trust your friend, and Emily’s friend? You don’t mean that, I’m sure. Call me by my other name--call me ‘Morris.’” “Morris?” she repeated. “Ah, I’ve heard of people called ‘Morris.’ Look back! Your eyes are young--do you see her on the terrace?” “There isn’t a living soul to be seen anywhere.” With one hand he raised her as he spoke--and with the other he took up the chair. In a minute more, they were out of sight of the house. He seated her so that she could rest her head against the trunk of a tree. “What a good fellow!” the poor old creature said, admiring him; “he knows how my head pains me. Don’t stand up! You’re a tall man. She might see you.” “She can see nothing. Look at the trees behind us. Even the starlight doesn’t get through them.” Mrs. Ellmother was not satisfied yet. “You take it coolly,” she said. “Do you know who saw us together in the passage to-day? You good Morris, _she_ saw us--she did. Wretch! Cruel, cunning, shameless wretch.” In the shadows that were round them, Alban could just see that she was shaking her clinched fists in the air. He made another attempt to control her. “Don’t excite yourself! If she comes into the garden, she might hear you.” The appeal to her fears had its effect. “That’s true,” she said, in lowered tones. A sudden distrust of him seized her the next moment. “Who told me I was excited?” she burst out. “It’s you who are excited. Deny it if you dare; I begin to suspect you, Mr. Morris; I don’t like your conduct. What has become of your pipe? I saw you put your pipe in your coat pocket. You did it when you set me down among the trees where _she_ could see me! You are in league with her--she is coming to meet you here--you know she does not like tobacco-smoke. Are you two going to put me in the madhouse?”