The young officer drew back slightly, but he was the first object upon which her gaze rested. She roused herself, and sat up. “Are you better, dearest?” anxiously asked Blanche. Lois did not answer, but tried to rise from her chair. She looked at the young man who was regarding her with so much profound interest, and a rosy blush overspread her face. “Captain Desfrayne!” she murmured. He advanced one step, then paused. “You are probably surprised to see me here, Miss Turquand,” he said. “Perhaps not more surprised than I am to find myself within these walls, or to discover you here. I came out for a ride, and scarcely noticed which road my horse took, until I was overtaken by the storm. But you must not remain here. The sooner you quit this place the better. The storm shows no signs of abating. Will you permit me to be your guide? Are you strong enough to walk, Miss Turquand?” Blanche put her arms about Lois to support her. Lois moved forward a few steps; but the agitation, however pleasant, of the last few days, the nervous trepidation caused by the storm, acting on a singularly susceptible temperament, and the weakness induced by her fainting-fit, proved too much for her to contend against, and she swayed again, sinking into the arms of Blanche, who caught her. Paul Desfrayne’s lips compressed very firmly as he looked at the young girl thus lying helpless. For a moment he reflected. “I must not be a coward,” he argued with himself. “What folly! It cannot signify to me. The sooner we are out of this situation the better.” Then he addressed Blanche with a calm, self-possessed manner, strangely at variance with his real feelings. “You must allow me to be more than your guide. There is serious danger in your remaining here. May I carry your friend?” There was no choice but to comply. He took Lois from the arms of her companion, and lifted her in his own strong, firm clasp. He glanced down at the pale, statuesque face as it rested against his shoulder, but it was impossible to even guess at his thoughts from the expression upon his countenance, which was that of perfect impassibility, though a certain eager interest lurked in his eyes. Through the door by which he had so unexpectedly entered, down a long, apparently interminable flight of somewhat steep steps, along one dim corridor after another, until Blanche began to feel bewildered, and to imagine herself in a dream. She did not attempt to address a solitary remark to the friend who had so suddenly come like a knight of old to the rescue of distressed damsels, but followed him with implicit faith as he strode with a quick step onward. Once he turned his head and spoke, as if he guessed she must feel mystified, or to break the current of his own unpleasant thoughts.