The room was hung with tapestry, which bent in and out with each gust of the wind--it was handsomely, but anciently furnished--everything was of the olden date. The room had two narrow windows--a huge old fashioned fireplace--one door only; opposite the windows was a large wardrobe, of which part formed a bookcase. In the far corner of the room were two beds with curtains of murrey-coloured silks, on which were trimmings, once bright, but now tarnished; several old pictures, hung on the walls, seemed lifelike in the half-gloom, half-glimmer of a solitary lamp on the large inlaid table in the centre of the room. These thoughts, suggested by the appearance of this fair lady in the ancient looking room, took Ellen's mind far shorter time to think of, than it has the writer to write them. She was awaked from her reverie by the soft voice again, "Madam--weep not--distress not yourself so." "Have pity on me--oh! you have a tender, kind heart--you must have; a face so fair is the mirror of a good heart." "Hush, lady--my father is at the door--these walls have ears--speak not so loud--and, moreover, do not ask for what I cannot grant. I will try and make you happy in your confinement,--I can do no more; and, lady, listen, your harsh or kind captivity depends entirely on yourself; if you submit without trying to escape, everything that can make you happy will be done for you; if you try either by bribe or subtlety to escape, you will only find harsher gaolers than I am." "I will trust you then--happy I cannot be, but nothing will harm me whilst you are here. But, oh! at least tell me why I am confined here; this is a free country, and without law the meanest subject of his Majesty cannot be imprisoned." "Alas, lady! I do not even know your name--far less do I know why you are here--I am your guardian only." "Then God's will be done--you will at least stand by me in my distress." "And now, madam, will you not retire to rest?--you need fear nothing." "No, I will not; I trust you--I do not those who are here besides. I will not--I could not sleep, and yet I do not fear; I have secreted a dagger--see it," she cried, holding a small Indian blade which she had contrived to possess herself of unseen by Sir Richard, and which had belonged to her eldest brother; "before Ellen Ravensworth submits to wrong she will bury this in her heart--death before dishonour."[G] "Keep it, lady; you may require it yet," said Juana, in a low tone. "Oh, my God, shield me; but what said you--you do then know why I am here?" "I guess, but cannot be certain; keep your weapon, I will not deprive you of your last resource; but let no one else know of it--there are those here who would." The young Spaniard then arose, saying, "You need fear no harm to-night--rest, for you are weary with crying, and terror; I pledge my sacred word no one enters this room to-night."