But to all of these anxious questions, and the more anxious look that accompanied them, Aline Rodney answered not a word. Her dark head still rested against her father’s breast, and one arm was drawn lovingly around his neck. There was a smile of ineffable joy and peace on her face, but at Mrs. Rodney’s reference to the little room and her wound a look of wonder came into the dark-blue eyes. “Mamma, who has told you all that?” she exclaimed. “We have heard it all from Dr. Anthony, who dressed your wound that night,” cried Mrs. Rodney. “Oh, Aline, who was it that wounded you so cruelly, my dear? and where were you, and why did you not send for me?” A look of sorrow and regret flashed over the sweet white face. “Mamma, I cannot tell you,” answered Aline. CHAPTER XIX. They gazed at her in amazement. What was this? Aline not to tell where she had been these three months! What could she possibly mean? “Aline, darling, you do not perhaps understand your mother. She is asking you where you have been. You must tell her, my child,” said Mr. Rodney, gently. Aline answered him in the same words: “Papa, I cannot tell her.” Something very like anger came momently into Mr. Rodney’s kind eyes as he looked down into the sweet young face that lay nestled lovingly against his arm. “No more willfulness, Aline,” he said, almost sternly. “You have run away from us and caused us a great deal of anxiety and sorrow. You have almost broken my heart, and your mother has been near to death’s door. You do not deserve that we should receive you back with so much love and forgiveness. But now that we have done so, you must be frank and explicit with us. You must tell us where you have hidden yourself so securely from us while we have been seeking you everywhere at so great an expense and trouble, to say nothing of our sorrow and anxiety.” “Papa, it does not matter where I have been so that you have me back again safe and secure,” cried simple Aline. She could not understand the dark frown that clouded his brow. “It matters everything,” he declared. “What new whim possesses you, Aline, that you should deny us thus? Do you not suppose that we should be anxious over your whereabouts after hearing all that we have done?” “I cannot understand who has told you so much, papa,” said the girl in wonder. Mr. Rodney made a sign to Dr. Anthony. He came forward into the range of Aline’s vision. “Doctor,” said Mr. Rodney, “do you recognize my daughter as the wounded girl whom you attended in the mysterious blue room?” Aline gazed in wonder at the strange face as it looked down upon her. She rather liked its expression, it was so cheery and handsome, with its brown eyes, brown mustache, regular features, and expression of good nature. He looked steadily and admiringly at the beautiful young face. “I could swear to her identity,” he said, firmly. “It is the face of the wounded girl in the mysterious blue room.”