“Mr. Scrymgeour,” she said, speaking in clear and even tones, “you must not be concerned at my father’s harsh expressions. I felt no disgust for you; on the contrary, I asked an opportunity to make your better acquaintance. As for what has passed to-night, believe me it has filled my mind with both pity and esteem.” Just then Mr. Rolles made a convulsive movement with his arm, which convinced Francis that he was only drugged, and was beginning to throw off the influence of the opiate. Mr. Vandeleur stooped over him and examined his face for an instant. “Come, come!” cried he, raising his head. “Let there be an end of this. And since you are so pleased with his conduct, Miss Vandeleur, take a candle and show the bastard out.” The young lady hastened to obey. “Thank you,” said Francis, as soon as he was alone with her in the garden. “I thank you from my soul. This has been the bitterest evening of my life, but it will have always one pleasant recollection.” “I spoke as I felt,” she replied, “and in justice to you. It made my heart sorry that you should be so unkindly used.” By this time they had reached the garden gate; and Miss Vandeleur, having set the candle on the ground, was already unfastening the bolts. “One word more,” said Francis. “This is not for the last time—I shall see you again, shall I not?” “Alas!” she answered. “You have heard my father. What can I do but obey?” “Tell me at least that it is not with your consent,” returned Francis; “tell me that you have no wish to see the last of me.” “Indeed,” replied she, “I have none. You seem to me both brave and honest.” “Then,” said Francis, “give me a keepsake.” She paused for a moment, with her hand upon the key; for the various bars and bolts were all undone, and there was nothing left but to open the lock. “If I agree,” she said, “will you promise to do as I tell you from point to point?” “Can you ask?” replied Francis. “I would do so willingly on your bare word.” She turned the key and threw open the door. “Be it so,” said she. “You do not know what you ask, but be it so. Whatever you hear,” she continued, “whatever happens, do not return to this house; hurry fast until you reach the lighted and populous quarters of the city; even there be upon your guard. You are in a greater danger than you fancy. Promise me you will not so much as look at my keepsake until you are in a place of safety.” “I promise,” replied Francis. She put something loosely wrapped in a handkerchief into the young man’s hand; and at the same time, with more strength than he could have anticipated, she pushed him into the street. “Now, run!” she cried. He heard the door close behind him, and the noise of the bolts being replaced. “My faith,” said he, “since I have promised!” And he took to his heels down the lane that leads into the Rue Ravignan.