"You are mistaken in one thing, Talabor. It may all be, perhaps it is, as you say, but something tells me to go! I can't explain it, but it is as if I were continually hearing a voice within saying, 'Go, go;' but if I made a mistake in expecting you to follow me blindly----" "Oh, dear lady, how could you be mistaken in trusting the most devoted of your servants! Let it be as you say! Command me, and I will neither gainsay, nor delay to do what you wish." "You really mean it?" "I do! before Heaven I do." "Well now, Talabor, can you deny that there is a sort of nightmare oppression about this place? The garrison has dwindled to three, and there are but four servants. We can't reckon upon Mr. Moses, for he grows harder to stir every day." It was all so perfectly true that Talabor could say nothing; but they talked on for a time, and then Dora began to think and consult with him as to the first steps to be taken. She wished to discharge all her duties as mistress of the castle to the end, as far as was possible; and the first question was, what was to become of Moses and the rest of the household? This settled, they thought it time to take the old governor into their confidence. Mr. Moses had long been of opinion that the castle was no safe place to stay in, and he readily undertook to conduct the remaining members of the garrison and household to a place of greater safety. In the depths of the neighbouring forest lived an old charcoal-burner, who supplied the castle blacksmith with charcoal, and had managed to steal up with it now and then all through these perilous times. The hut, or rather cave, in which the poor man and his family lived, was far away from any road, it was closed in by rocks, and was altogether so difficult, if not impossible, for any stranger to discover, that Moses and Talabor thought it the safest place of any to be found. But Dora begged them both to keep their own counsel until the time for action should come; and as to when that time should be, no one knew but herself. Latterly, as troubles had multiplied, it had become a sort of fixed idea with her that she must go and find her father at all costs, or at least make sure whether he were still alive or dead, and in the latter event she had resolved to take refuge in a convent. Two or three days after the consultation mentioned above, Dora sent for her two devoted followers. It was quite early in the morning, but she was already dressed for going out--for a journey it seemed, though, in spite of the bitter cold, she wore none of her rich furs. Except that she was cleaner and neater, there was nothing to distinguish her from the poorest peasant-girl tramping from one village to another, or perhaps going on a distant pilgrimage.