But it took her some little time to assure her captive that this was not a continuation of her terrible nightmare dreams. When she at last convinced her that this was an awful reality, and boldly told her that Clifford Standish had brought her here in a drugged sleep, the terrible truth rushed over her mind. "That wine Miss Erroll gave me was drugged! She was in the plot!" she cried, wildly. The hag nodded sullenly, and Geraldine continued, passionately: "He will never get my consent to marry him, never!" And then she fell to pleading with the old woman for her liberty, promising to make her rich if she would only restore her to her friends. But Jane Crabtree laughed her to scorn, sneering at the idea of Geraldine being able to reward her for her liberty. Standish had cleverly prepared her for all that the girl might threaten or promise, by telling her not to listen to anything, as the girl was only a poor salesgirl from Siegel & Cooper's, on a salary of three dollars a week. So the old witch grunted scornfully at her pleadings, threats, and promises, and presently went out, locking the door after her until she returned with a coarse breakfast of badly served food, from which the girl turned with loathing. While she was absent, Geraldine rose and looked from the window to see if there was any chance of escape. What she saw made her turn shudderingly back to the bright coal-fire, the only cheerful object in the poor room. The window was very small, and the grimy panes were guarded by heavy iron bars. Beyond these bars Geraldine saw a level stretch of country covered with a mantle of snow. A wild snow-storm was raging, and the wind drove against the shutters with terrible violence, banging them to and fro until the old house shook in the terrible gale. She realized that she was in a farm-house, far removed from any other habitation, and that if she could have walked out of the house at that moment she must have perished in the deep drifts of snow while struggling to escape. That terrible first day passed in alternate weeping and praying. Standish did not make his appearance, and Jane Crabtree remained down stairs, attending to her household tasks, except when she came up to replenish the fire and minister to the wants of her captive. That first day Geraldine ate nothing. At night she sobbed herself to sleep. The next day hunger drove her to partake of a little of the coarse food. For three days the monotonous blizzard raged, and the snow grew deeper and deeper. Geraldine felt as if she should go mad. She wondered despairingly if she should ever get free from the power of her cruel jailer, or if she should die here, as old Jane had boldly threatened. The woman had become very impatient over Geraldine's continued weeping, and one day she said, roughly: "You might as well hush that snivelin' an' make your mind up ter marry that man, for if you don't he'll kill you!" "Kill me! He dare not!"