"No, miss, but there's that Mr. Trimble—chaplain as they call him—he is none too good at the best, and when he is half seas over, as he is about half the time, he will do any thing for more liquor. By what my lord's man let out one day, I believe he was brought to the hall for this very job." I looked at Mrs. Deborah and wrung my hands with impatience and anxiety. "Take care, Mary Lee! Say no more than you know to be true," said Mrs. Deborah, gravely. "I'm sure I beg your pardon, Mrs. Deborah, ma'am, if I spoke disrespectful," said Mary. "But oh, Mrs. Deborah! Oh, ladies! Do save my poor young lady! They will kill her among them. They have shut her up alone in her room with no one near her, only that wicked French woman takes her her meals, and poor meals they are. Even Mrs. Wilson is not allowed to go to her. And, Mrs. Deborah, the wolf howled last night! I heard him myself, and so did all of us, and Harry says it bodes some great misfortune. And worse than that—" Here her voice sank to a whisper, "The picture of the wolf-lady came out of its frame and walked about the house—Ellen saw it." "Nonsense!" said Mrs. Deborah, but she looked uneasy. I knew very well that she herself believed in the howling of the wolf as portending some great misfortune, and that she was not entirely incredulous on the subject of the walking picture. "Where did Ellen see the wolf-lady?" I asked. "In the long gallery, miss. She had been down to the kitchen to get a warm salt-bag to put to Hannah's cheek, for the poor thing is half dead with an income in her face, and she made bold to go through the gallery to reach the little stairs." "She heard a voice as if pleading as for very life in the little saloon, and another deep voice that seemed to answer in scorn, Ellen said, and she had just time to slip behind the great Indian screen, when the lady came out in a long white gown, and with both hands pressed to the sides of her head. She passed along so close that Ellen said she could almost have touched her, and went into the great hall, and then Ellen ran up stairs to her own room." I glanced at Mrs. Deborah. I did not believe in the ghostly character of Ellen's vision, neither, I saw, did she. "When did you last see Miss Leighton, Mary?" I asked. "Yesterday morning, Miss." "And Lord Bulmer is still at the Hall? He did not go with Sir Julius!" "Oh, no, ma'am, Captain Dangerfield did, but he is back again to-day. Oh, Mrs. Deborah, save my dear young lady!" "Did you bring me no note or message, then?" I asked. "Yes, Miss. I forgot! One from Mrs. Wilson. She has been very good to me, has Mrs. Wilson. She said the note was about some napkins or something!" I took the note, and, dismissing Mary to her supper and the society of her favored lover, I opened it. It was fairly well written, and I had no trouble in reading it. "Miss, if ever you loved Miss Leighton, contrive some way to help her to-night." The word was underscored.