"She will die, Lindsey, for she has never tasted food since she came here, and that is a long week now. You had better let her go. She will never marry you; she will die first, as she said." "Then she will be mine in death. I will bury her under the cellar of this house, and no one will ever know the secret of her fate." "It is a wonder they did not suspect you," she exclaimed. "I fancy the detectives did at first, but I was clever, and threw them off the scent. In the first place, I went as usual that day to give her her lesson in drawing. When the servants told me she was missing I pretended to be entirely in ignorance. Then I devoted myself to a girl in my own rank, and contrived to make every one think me engaged to her. That cleared me, you see." "Better marry that girl, Lindsey. She might be happy with you. T'other one wouldn't, even if you got her. You're too poor; she couldn't bear it." "But her father worships the ground she walks on; he would give her a dowry if she married me." "Better say he would disinherit her for such a marriage." "Not if she could be brought to love me. He's a stickler for love matches, I know. He married a governess himself. No, mother, only let me get the little beauty to marry me; and the senator would forgive us, and my fortune would be made." "Go upstairs and look at that poor girl a-dying, as white as the wall, and not able to walk across the floor, and maybe you'll change your mind," replied she cynically. "By heaven! she shall eat!" he cried frantically. "I will force her to swallow food at the point of a pistol." "And drive her insane--yes, that's what you'll do!" "Mother, you're a fool! Come along and help me, and we'll pour some wine down her throat. She shall not die. I love her too well. Life would be a desert without her." She followed him up the dark, rickety stairway, carrying the lamp, for it was after dark, and presently unlocked the door of the girl's prison. "What is that?" he cried in horror. Precious lay face downward on the floor, seemingly lifeless. "I told you so. She's dead! You've killed her!" the woman muttered. With a groan he flung himself on his knees and lifted the silent form. The white face with its closed eyes fell inertly across his arm. He bent his ear to her heart. "No, no, she is not dead. Her heart beats faintly. Quick! some wine in a spoon. Here, put it between her lips. Let it trickle down her throat," and with wild anxiety he held the still, white face up to the light. * * * * * Meantime there were suspense and horror unutterable in the senator's splendid mansion. Since that bold and daring letter that had told them Precious was in the power of a lover whose passion amounted to insanity, no further clew had been found. The most alert detectives of Washington and New York were completely baffled, though neither time nor money was spared in the quest.