“I think with you,” said Dudleigh, after Edith had ended, “that the letter is a forgery. But what is difficult to understand is this apparent desertion of you. This may be accounted for, however, in one of two ways. First, Wiggins may actually have seen her, and frightened her in some way. You say she is timid. The other explanation of her silence is that she may be ill.” “Ill!” exclaimed Edith, mournfully. “It may be so.” “May she not all this time have been trying to rescue me, and been baffled?” Dudleigh smiled. “Oh no. If she had tried at all you would have heard something about it before this; something would certainly have been done. The claim of Wiggins would have been contested in a court of law. Oh no; she has evidently done nothing. In fact, I think that, sad as it may seem to you, there can be no doubt about her illness. You say she left you here. No doubt she felt terrible anxiety. The next day she could not see you. Her love for you, and her anxiety, would, perhaps, be too much for her. She may have been taken home ill.” Edith sighed. The picture of Miss Plympton's grief was too much for her. “At any rate,” said she, “if I can't find any friends--if Sir Lionel is gone, and poor dear auntie is ill, I can be free. I can help nurse her. Any life is better than this; and I can put my case in the hands of the lawyers.” “You are, of course, well supplied with money,” said Dudleigh, carelessly. “Money?” “Yes; so as to travel, you know, and live, and pay your lawyers.” “I have no money,” said Edith, helplessly; “that is, not more than a few sovereigns. I did not think of that.” “No money?” “No--only a little.” “No money! Why, how is that? No money? Why, what can you do?” “Wiggins manages every thing, and has all the money.” “You have never obtained any from him as yet, then?” “I have never needed any.” “He spends your own money in paying these spies and jailers. But if you have no money, how can you manage to live, even if you do escape?” Edith looked down in despair. The idea of money had never entered her mind. Yet now, since it was mentioned, she felt its importance. Yes, money was the chief thing; without that flight was useless, and liberty impossible. But how could she get it? Wiggins would not give her any. And where could she go? Could she go to Miss Plympton's, to be a dependent upon her at the school? That thought was intolerable. Much as she loved Miss Plympton, she could not descend to that. “You are certainly not very practical,” said Dudleigh, “or your first thought would have been about this. But you have none, you say, and so it can not be remedied. Is there any thing else? You see you can escape; but what then?” Dudleigh was silent, and Edith looked at him in deep suspense. “You say you never see Wiggins now?” “No.” “You are not subject to insults?” “No--to none.” “Have you the Hall to yourself?”