Alone with her in the hall, he continued, “I have the sequel of Bob Reynolds’s story. That woman——” “Was Aunt Betsy,” Helen gasped. “But where is she now? That was two days ago. Tell me if you know. Mr. Ray, you _do_ know,” and in an agony of fear lest something dreadful had happened, she laid her hand on Mark’s, beseeching him to tell her if he knew where Aunt Betsy was. It was worth torturing her for a moment to see the pleading look in her eyes, and feel the soft touch of the hand which he took between both his own, holding it there while he answered her: “Aunt Betsy is at my house; kidnapped by me for safe keeping, until I could consult with you. Was that right?” he asked, as a flush came to Helen’s cheek, and an expression to her eye which told that his meaning was understood. “Is she there willingly? How did it happen?” was Helen’s reply, her hand still in those of Mark, who, thus circumstanced, grew very warm and eloquent with the sequel to Bob’s story, making it as long as possible, telling what he knew, and also what he had done. He had not implicated Wilford in any way; but Helen read it all, saying more to herself than him, “And _she_ was at the opera. Wilford must have seen her, and that is why he left so suddenly, and why he has appeared so absent and nervous to-day, as if expecting something. Excuse me,” she suddenly added, drawing her hand away and stepping back a little, “I forgot that I was talking as if _you_ knew.” “I do know more than you suppose—that is, I know human nature—and I know Will better than I did that morning when I first met you,” Mark said, glancing at the freed hand he wished so much to take again. But Helen kept her hands to herself, and answered him, “You did right under the circumstances. It would have been unpleasant for us all had she happened here to-night. I thank you, Mr. Ray—you and your mother, too—more than I can express. I will see her early to-morrow morning. Tell her so, please, and again I thank you.” There were tears in Helen’s soft brown eyes, and they glittered like diamonds as she looked even more than spoke her thanks to the young man, who, for another look like that, would have driven Aunt Betsy amid the gayest crowd that ever frequented the Park, and sworn she was his blood relation! A few words from Mrs. Banker confirmed what Mark had said, and it was not strange if that night Miss Lennox, usually so entertaining, was a little absent, for her thoughts were up in that chamber on Twenty-third Street, where Aunt Betsy sat alone, but not lonely, for her mind was very busy with all she had been through since leaving Silverton, while something kept suggesting to her that it would have been wiser and better to have stayed at home than to have ventured where she was so sadly out of place. This last came gradually to Aunt Betsy as she thought the matter over, and remembered Wilford as he had appeared each time he came to Silverton.