"The morning air is not good for young ladies," said another voice, and my mother's face, appeared over the housekeeper's shoulder. "After a while we shall take a ride, my dear. For the present, you will please retire to your room." Startled at the sound of my mother's voice, I involuntarily stepped back--the door was closed, and I heard the key turn in the lock. I was a prisoner in my own room. There I remained all day long; my meals were served by the housekeeper and my maid Caroline. My mother did not appear. How I passed that day, a prisoner in my luxurious chamber, cannot be described. I sat for hours, with my head resting on my hands, and my eyes to the floor. What plans of escape, mingled with forebodings of the future, crossed my brain! At length I took pen and paper, and wrote a brief note to Ernest, informing him of my danger, and begging him, as he loved me, to hasten at once to town and to the mansion. This note I folded, sealed, and directed properly. "Caroline," said I to my maid, who was a pleasant-faced young woman of about twenty, with dark hair and eyes--"I would like this letter to be placed in the post-office at once. Will you take charge of it for me?" "I'll give it to Jones," she responded--"he's goin' down to the post office right away." "But Caroline," I regarded her with a meaning look, "I do not wish any one to know, that I sent this letter to the post-office. Will you keep it a secret?" "Not a livin' mortal shall know it--not a livin' mortal;" and taking the letter she left the room. After a few minutes she returned with a smiling face, "Jones has got it and he's gone!" I could scarce repress a wild ejaculation of joy. Ernest will receive it to-night; he will be here to-morrow; I will be saved! The day wore on and my mother did not appear. Toward evening Caroline came into my room, bearing a new dress upon her arm--a dress of white satin, richly embroidered and adorned with the costliest lace. "O, Miss, ain't it beautiful!" cried Caroline, displaying the dress before me, "and the bonnet and vail to match it, will be here to-night, an' your new di'monds. It's really fit for a queen." It was indeed a magnificent dress. "Who is it for?" I asked. "Now, come, ain't that good! 'Who is it for?' And you lookin' so innocent as you ask it. As if you did not know all the while, that it's your bridal dress, and that you are to be married airly in the mornin', after which you will set off on your bridal _tower_." "Caroline, where did you learn this?" I asked, my heart dying within me. "Why, how can you keep such things secret from the servants? Ain't your mother been gettin' ready for it all day, and ain't the servants been a-flyin' here and there, like mad? And Mr. Wareham's been so busy all day, and lookin' _so_ pleased! Laws, Miss, _how_ can you expect to keep such things from the servants?"