"Yes, mother," Mildred said, faltering as she spoke, "in that meeting, which was watched by some miserable spy--that meeting, which I shall remember for ever, which brings no shame to my cheek--in that meeting Randolph won the pledge which nothing but death can break. Did I love him when first I called him my cousin? Did I love him at that meeting on the cliff? Mother, I love him now a thousandfold. Is he houseless, homeless, an outcast, and a beggar? The more need has he of my love. Tell me not of dishonour: there is none with him. Speak to me not of shame: I know it not with him. Is his fate in your hands? So is mine. They cannot be divided. He is mine, and I am his." As her daughter spoke, Mrs. Pendarrel tightened her hold upon her wrist, and when she flung it loose at the close of Mildred's words, it was discoloured by the pressure. She flung it scornfully from her, and said, in tones whose concentrated but cold indignation was remarkably at variance with her previous vehemence:-- "Go to your chamber, girl. We must see a quick end to this folly. And as for him, you have sealed his doom." Mildred obeyed, and retired to her own apartment. There she threw herself on a couch, and wept long and passionately. But one thought at last seized her, and restored her to herself. "His doom sealed!" she murmured. "Did my mother say his doom was sealed? And through me? No, no: it must not be. And is he, indeed, in such danger and distress, and I here, far away, instead of sharing his sorrows, as is my right and my duty? Oh, mother! mother! you little know what you have done." And she rose, and dried her eyes, and wrote two notes, inclosing one within the other, and directing the outer one to Helen Trevethlan. She had never been one of those dramatic heroines who, in every little trouble, seek consolation from their maids. With regard to them, one might be inclined to avail oneself of the qualification attached to the Highgate oath. Mildred had never asked Rhoda to do her any secret service before. But when she summoned her now, and requested her to convey the note she had just written to its destination at Mrs. Winston's, the natural quickness of a soubrette at once perceived, from the mere selection of the messenger, that the errand was confidential, and it was with gratified self-esteem that Rhoda accepted the mission, and delivered the billet into Miss Trevethlan's own hands. Rhoda advanced very rapidly in the confidence of her young mistress that evening.