The wild, tangled garden beneath the window sends up gusts of rainy perfume to her eager senses. She pushes up the sash and leans out, inhaling the fresh, sweet air, and wondering if it would not be possible to escape through the window from this horrible trap into which her credulity had led her. Alas! her eager, downward glance shows her that she is in the third story of the house. She drops the heavy curtain and sinks shivering to a seat, worn and trembling with the terrible experiences of the night. Her thoughts fly to the home from whence she has been so rudely torn. "Are they frightened? Are they seeking for me, I wonder?" she thinks. "Oh, may God guide them in their search!" And then she thinks of her lost lover, handsome, manly Philip Lockhart. She knows how heavily the blow will fall on that true, manly, loving heart. She leans her head wearily down on her arm, and gives herself up to the sad, sweet pleasure of thinking of Philip Lockhart. Gradually a weary sleep steals over her, from which she is awakened by the entrance of her keeper. "Asleep, dear? I'm sorry I awakened ye," she says, blandly. "Do you feel better of your little fit of temper?" Lady Vera makes no answer to this kind query. "Mr. Noble has gone up to London," pursues the maid, glibly. "He left his love and good-bye for you. You gave him quite an ugly cut, so you did, my pretty lady. Won't you let poor old Betsy Robson see the pretty little knife you did it with?" she continues, coaxingly. Lady Vera lifts her eyes and regards her calmly. "Betsy Robson, if that is your name," she said, "listen to me a moment. I have a dagger concealed on my person, and Leslie Noble has set you on to take it from me. I warn you that if you make the slightest attempt to do so, it will be at the peril of your life. It is my only weapon of defense against Leslie Noble, and I will never part with it while I am in that villain's power." "Oh, fie, my lady, why should you be so set against your loving husband?" remonstrates Mrs. Robson. Lady Vera regards her keenly. "Are you acting a part, or do you really believe what that man tells you?" she asks, wonderingly. "I tell you Leslie Noble has no claim on me at all. He is a villain who has stolen me away from my home and friends to try to force me to be his wife. I am Lady Fairvale, of Fairvale Park, and if you will restore me to my liberty, Mrs. Robson, I will reward you generously." The dark eyes, full of bitter tears now, are lifted pleadingly to the woman's stolid face, but the wild appeal only elicits some words under Betsy Robson's breath: "Poor soul! He told me she fancied she was some great, rich lady. A pity she is so wild-like. So lovely as she is, too, and might be such a pride to her handsome husband." Countess Vera turns away her head with a heart-wrung cry.