Her bewildered mind was momentarily deceived by this answer, and she permitted herself to be led into a house, which she soon discovered not to be an hotel. The most dreadful suspicions instantly seized her. So soon as she was shown into a parlour, the man retired. A woman came in shortly afterwards, who, from her appearance, seemed to be the mistress of the house. She spoke kindly to Mrs. Lane, and asked if she would walk up into her room. "There has been some mistake," said the poor wanderer, her lips quivering in spite of her efforts to assume a firm exterior. "Oh, no, none at all," quickly replied the woman, smiling. "Yes, yes there is. I am not in the hotel where I wished to go. Why have I been brought here? Where is the man with whom I came?" "He has gone away; but will return again. In the mean time do not causelessly distress yourself. You are safe from all harm." "But I am not where I wished to go," replied Mrs. Lane. "Will you be kind enough to give me the direction of the United States Hotel, and I will walk there with my child." The woman shook her head. "I could not permit you to go until Mr. Bond returned," said she. "He brought you here, and will expect to find you when he comes back." "I will not remain." And as she said this in a firm voice, Mrs. Lane arose, and, taking her little girl in her arms, made an attempt to move through the door into the passage. But the woman stepped before her quickly, and in a mild, yet decided way, told her that she could not leave the house. "Why not?" asked the trembling creature. "Mr. Bond has placed you in my care, and will expect to find you on his return," answered the woman. "Who is Mr. Bond? What right has he to control my movements?" "Did you not place yourself in his care?" inquired the woman. "I understood him to say that such was the case." "He offered to protect me from wrong and insult." "And, having undertaken to do so, he feels himself responsible to your friends for your safe return to their hands. I am responsible to him." "Deceived! deceived! deceived!" murmured Mrs. Lane, bursting into tears and sinking into a chair, while she hugged her child tightly in her arms, and laid its face against her own. The woman seemed slightly moved at this exhibition of distress, and stood looking at the quivering frame of the unhappy fugitive, with a slight expression of regret on her face. After Mrs. Lane had grown calm, the woman said to her: "Is your husband living?" "He is," was answered, in a steady voice. "Where does he reside?" continued the woman. "In New York," replied Mrs. Lane. "What is his name?" Mrs. Lane reflected, hurriedly, for some moments, and then gave a correct answer, adding, at the same time, that for any attempted wrong, there would come a speedy and severe retribution. The next inquiry of the woman was as to her husband's occupation, which was also answered correctly.