“Well, really, Miss Dalton,” said Mowbray, after another pause, in which Edith suffered frightful suspense--“really, your request is a singular one. I would do any thing for you--but this is different. You see, you are a sort of ward, and to carry you away from the control of your guardian might be a very dangerous offense.” “In fact, you are afraid, I see,” said Edith, bitterly. “Well, you need say no more. I will trouble you no further.” Saying this, she rose and stood in all her stately beauty before them--cold, haughty, and without a trace of emotion left. They were struck by the change. Thus far she had appeared a timid, agitated, frightened girl; they now saw in her something of that indomitable spirit which had already baffled and perplexed her jailers. “We hope to see more of you,” said Mrs. Mowbray. “We shall call again soon.” To this Edith made no reply, but saw them to the drawing-room door. Then they descended the stairs and entered the carriage, and she heard them drive off. Then she went up to her room, and sat looking out of the window. “He is worse than Wiggins,” she muttered. “He is a gentleman, but a villain--and a ruined one too--perhaps in the pay of Wiggins. Wiggins sent him here.” * * * * * CHAPTER XV. A PANIC AMONG THE JAILERS. The arrival of these visitors had produced an extraordinary effect upon Mrs. Dunbar. So great was her agitation that she could scarcely announce them to Edith. So great was it that, though she was Edith's jailer, she did not dream of denying them the privilege of seeing her, but summoned Edith at once, as though she was free mistress of the house. After Edith had gone down the agitation of Mrs. Dunbar continued, and grew even greater. She sank into a chair, and buried her face in her hands. In that position she remained motionless for a long time, and was at length aroused by the return of Edith from her interview with her visitors. Upon her entrance Mrs. Dunbar started up suddenly, and with downcast face left the room, without exciting any attention from Edith, who was too much taken up with her own thoughts about her visitors to notice any thing unusual about the appearance of her housekeeper. Leaving Edith's room, Mrs. Dunbar walked along the hall with slow and uncertain step, and at length reached a room at the west end. The door was closed. She knocked. A voice cried, “Come in,” and she entered. It was a large room, and it looked out upon the grounds in front of the house. A desk was in the middle, which was covered with papers. All around were shelves filled with books. It seemed to be a mixture of library and office. At the desk sat Wiggins, who looked up, as Mrs. Dunbar entered, with his usual solemn face.