His gaze lingered on her a moment, noting her beauty and grace which still shone pre-eminent, though her beautiful coloring was all faded and gone, and she looked like a picture looked at by moonlight alone with all the bright tints of daylight invisible. Loving her for her beauty, and hating her for her scorn, he went away, but carried the picture in his heart, at once a joy and a torment, for his conscience could not but reproach him for the change that was so sadly visible in her fragile, drooping form. Lily remained sitting motionless in her chair, lost in painful revery, until twilight filled the room with shadows. The room grew chilly, and she shivered now and then in her thin dress, but she never stirred until old Haidee entered with a light and supper, the latter consisting of a scanty portion of dry bread and a pitcher of water. Lily cast a glance of loathing upon the food and turned away. Her weak appetite could not relish the dry bread, and it often was taken away untasted. "Haidee, I wish you would light a fire," said she, shivering in the chilly atmosphere. "The night is cool, and I am very thinly clad." "There will be no fire to-night," said Haidee, curtly. "If you are cold go to bed and cover up under the bed-clothes." "At least bring me a shawl to wrap about my shoulders," pleaded the girl. "Not a rag," retorted the old woman, whose sharp temper was even more acid than usual to-night on account of her rencontre that evening. "Does Mr. Colville wish me to suffer from cold as well as hunger?" inquired Lily, bitterly. "I wish it whether he does or not!" answered Haidee, viciously. "What noise was that I heard this evening?" inquired Lily, looking curiously at the old woman. "I was very much frightened by a succession of screams and oaths as if people were fighting--ah, and now that I look at you, Haidee, I see that there is something the matter with your face." "Old Peter whipped me, if you must know the truth," snapped the witch. "Whipped you!" said Lily, with an incredulous look; "oh, no, he would not whip his wife, would he?" "Yes, he would, and did," retorted Haidee, with a grim sort of smile, as if she took a certain sort of pride in Peter's ferocity. "Oh, we think nothing of a rough-and-tumble fight now and then. Sometimes I get the better of him, sometimes he overpowers me, but it's often an even thing. Old Peter is a ferocious one, I can tell you. If you had knocked him down as you did me the time you escaped, he would have killed you when they brought you back." Lily shuddered at this intimation of Peter's cruelty. "Haidee, I did not mean to hurt you that day," said she, earnestly. "I would not hurt the meanest thing that lives if I could help it. I only pushed you to throw you off your balance, so that I might get away."