“It is enough!” answered our heroine, her very lips becoming white as marble, and her heart sinking with despair at what she imagined their fate would be. Then suddenly assuming a haughty, defiant air, she added, “Go at once and tell your chief that I desire his presence immediately!” “Oh, my lady, do not blame poor Nina, for she would gladly serve you if she could. But my lot is that of a slave here, and I dare not disobey, lest my life pay the forfeit. Were it not for my own dear mistress, I would gladly die.” “What!” almost shrieked Dora, “are there others here, in the same situation with ourselves?” “Ah, mademoiselle, there are seven as lovely ladies here as ever the sun shone upon.” “Oh, heavens! and how long have they been held captive in such a place?” “Some have been here three or four years; some not as long, but one has lived here many years. But I must not tell you more, lest I be overheard; only do not blame me for what you suffer,” she entreated, heaving a deep sigh. “My poor child!” said Madame Alroyd, soothingly, while a shudder quivered through her frame. “We cannot regard you with any other feeling than that of pity. And rest assured, should kind Providence send friends to our rescue, we will not forget you and your poor mistress.” The grateful girl seized her hand and kissed it passionately, and immediately glided from the room. The two terror-stricken ladies then made a hasty toilet, and sat down with fear and trembling, to await the appearance of the much dreaded chief. Presently Nina returned and said: “The chief desires that you will partake of your breakfast, which is waiting; after which your request shall be attended to.” She parted another set of curtains, and revealed beyond an elegant breakfast-room, in which a table was daintily spread for two. Dora walked proudly within, without uttering a word in reply. Madam timidly followed, and they seated themselves, going through the ceremony of eating, being attentively waited on by the faithful girl. When the repast was ended, Nina seized a tiny silver whistle that lay upon the table and blew it, and instantly a page entered and removed the service, followed by the girl. Not many minutes elapsed, and Dora saw the drapery which hid the entrance move; then there was a sound, as of persons whispering. She held her breath—she felt that the decisive moment had arrived. A fair, white, shapely hand parted the curtains; a trim, finely formed foot was upon the threshold, and for an instant our heroine’s head grew dizzy, while a mist vailed her eyes; but with a mighty effort she conquered the faintness, and drew her queenly little form to its fullest height, and waited for the appearance of her dreaded visitor. The drapery was swept entirely aside, and a cry of indignant surprise parted her lips as she fixed her eyes upon the figure before her. CHAPTER XXV. DEFIANCE.