In this instance he persuaded her that old Katie died under the influence of the chloroform that she had helped to administer on that fatal night when the old negress had been discovered eavesdropping behind the curtain in Mrs. Dugald's apartments. What his motive could have been for this deception it would be difficult to say; perhaps it was for the purpose of gaining some power over her; perhaps it was from the pleasure of torturing her and seeing her terrors--for his passion for the woman was by no means that pure love which seeks first of all the good of its object; and, finally, perhaps it was from the mere habit of duplicity. However that might be, he had persuaded her that Katie was dead, dead from the effects of the chloroform they had forced her to take. And now that he had really committed a felony by selling the three negroes to a West Indian smuggler, he was not inclined to confess the truth. For not upon any account would he have confided to his companion in guilt the secret of a criminal transaction in which she had not also been implicated. He could not have trusted her so far as to place his liberty in her keeping. Therefore he preferred she should believe Katie's body had been sunk in the depths of the sea; and that Sally and Jim had accompanied their lady in her departure from the castle. It is true, the household servants might soon disabuse her mind of the mistake that the lady's maid and footman had gone with their mistress. But if they should do so, the viscount knew he could easily plead ignorance as to the fact; and say that all he knew was, she had not left them at the castle. Mrs. Dugald listened to his account of the disposition of old Katie's body with deep delight. She clapped her little hands in her usual silly manner and exclaimed eagerly: "That is good; oh, that is good! But are you sure it will stay down there? Great Heaven, if it should rise against us!" "There is no danger, love, no danger." "We should all be guillotined!" she repeated for the twentieth time since that night. And she shuddered through all her frame. "Hanged, my dearest, not guillotined; hanged by the neck till we are dead," said the viscount, smiling. "Ah, but you look like Mephistopheles when you say that!" she shrieked, covering her face with her hands. "But there is no danger, none at all, I assure you. And now, my angel, I must leave you; I ordered the brougham to be at the door at twelve precisely to take me to Banff to meet the Aberdeen coach. And I have some preparations to make. Come down into the drawing room and wait to take leave of me, that is a dear." "Oh, yes, yes! but before you go, promise me! You will write every day?" "Every day, my angel," said the viscount, bowing over her hand, before he withdrew from the room.