"It is too bad," he said in a tone of vexation, "but Dabney's sleigh which I counted on confidently as being available was hired out in the earlier part of the evening to a couple of young fellows off on a lark into the country. They will not return until to-morrow evening." "Then what are we to do?" she asked. The young fellow smothered some sort of a vexed ejaculation between his mustached lips. "We are to be patient," he answered, grimly. "Dabney knows a man a mile away from here who keeps a sleigh. He has sent off on the mere chance of its being at home to secure it for us." He went out and left her sitting before the fire gazing into the glowing coals thoughtfully. After he had gone she took out her watch and looked at it. "Twelve o'clock," she repeated to herself, putting the watch quietly back. Lance returned after an hour of patient waiting, accompanied by Mr. Dabney himself. "We have been very unfortunate, indeed, in being unable to secure you a conveyance of any sort to-night, madam," he said, courteously. "It is now after one o'clock and all efforts have failed. Would it please you to retire and wait until morning? We will then provide comfortable means for your return." She looked at Lance timidly. "It is the only thing to be done," he answered, moodily. "I would walk to the city myself if it were the slightest use; but I am an indifferent walker, and could not possibly get back here till long after daylight; so the only course I see open is to wait for a sleigh which is promised me in the morning." "If that is the case," she answered, sadly, "I should be glad to retire. I am very tired, and feel the shock of my accident painfully." The gentlemen retired, and a maid came in and showed Mrs. Vance to a sleeping apartment. She locked the door, and threw herself wearily across the bed. She was laboring under some strong excitement. No sleep refreshed her burning eyelids that night. At daylight the little maid knocked at the door with a tempting breakfast arranged on a tray. "The sleigh has arrived, and is waiting until you have your breakfast," said she, politely. Mrs. Vance bathed her face and hands, re-arranged her disordered hair, and after doing full justice to the tray of viands, descended to Lance, who impatiently waited her coming. He helped her into the sleigh, took up the reins and set off homeward. "I hope you slept well?" he remarked, to break the awkward silence. She turned her dark eyes up to meet his questioning glance. He saw with surprise they were hollow, languid and sleepless, while a glance of ineffable anguish shone upon him. "Could I sleep well, do you think?" she inquired, in a voice full of passionate reproach. "Could I sleep at all, knowing the dreadful fate which awaits me?" "I fail to understand you," said he, in a voice of perplexity. "You cannot be so blind, Lance. You are only playing with me," she murmured, sadly.