Grover felt all her distrust reviving. She was certain that Virgie was feeling almost completely recovered. Was there anything up? Some plot? Had young Rosenberg planned for the mother to be away in town while he came down here and carried off Virginia in his car? She turned from the closing of the door upon Mrs. Mynors' exit, with a very grim mouth. The patient was sitting bolt upright in bed, with an expression so changed, so alert, that she paused just where she stood, in amazement. "Grover," panted the girl, in a shaken, excited voice, "come here; I want to speak to you." Grover approached, slowly and doubtfully, suspicion written all over her. When she was quite near, Virginia drew her down so that she sat upon the bed, and put her arms round her, laying her head upon a singularly unresponsive bosom. "Grover, I want you to help me," she whispered. "I am going to do something desperate--something secret--and I can't do it unless you stand by me." The woman paused. She was angry with herself for being influenced, as influenced she undoubtedly was, by the clinging arms, and the nestling golden head. "Now, what have you got in your head, ma'am?" she asked, as coldly as she could. She almost jumped when she heard the reply. "_I want you to help me run away._" "Never!" Putting aside the girlish embrace, she rose to her feet, her homely face stern and reproachful. "Never! Not while I'm in his service! He may have scared you, as your mother tells me he has, but if so, you should have known better. It's only because you know so little of him, and he so unused to women. Oh, my dear, my dear, I don't suppose for a minute you'll listen to me, but I must say it! You go back, my dear, and do your duty! Your place is there, with him! You chose him, and it's God's law that you should cleave to him, though I have no right to be talking like this, ma'am, but if it was the last word I ever said----" "Grover, Grover," cried Virginia, grasping a solid arm and shaking it, "what on earth are you talking about? Isn't that just what I want you to do? To take me back to Omberleigh? What did you think I meant?" Grover's face was a study. It was as though layer after layer of gloom and apprehension passed from its surface. "That what you mean? Run away _home_?" she panted. "To Omberleigh, yes." She could not bring her lips to utter the word _home_, but Grover did not remark such a detail, though Gaunt had noted it fast enough in the letter she wrote him the previous week. "I don't know whether it is that my chill has made me a little mad," whispered Virgie, "but I feel as if I am in prison. I feel as if they had made up their minds that I should not go back, and you know I must. I have overstayed my time already."