Yet Sir Lionel did not give up all hope. He could not drive her away. He could not fly away from her, for her watch was too vigilant; but he hoped for some chance of secret flight in which, if he once escaped, he might find his way to the Continent. With something of that cunning which characterizes the insane, and which, perhaps, is born of the presence of a “keeper,” Sir Lionel watched his opportunity, and one day nearly succeeded in effecting his desire. That day Lady Dudleigh was in her brother's room. Sir Lionel had waited for this, and had made his preparations. When she had been gone for a few minutes, he stole softly out of his room, passed stealthily down the back stairs of the inn, and going out of the back-door, reached the rear of the house. Here there was a yard, and a gate that led out to a road at the end of the house. A carriage had been in waiting here for about an hour. Sir Lionel hurried across the yard, passed through the gate, and looked for the carriage. He took one glance, and then a deep oath escaped him. In the carriage was Lady Dudleigh. How she could have detected his flight he could not imagine, nor did he now care. She had detected it, and had followed at once to circumvent him. She must have gone down the front stairs, out of the front-door, and reached the carriage before him. And there she was! Those hateful eyes were fixed on him--he felt the horrid stare--he cowered beneath it. He walked toward her. “I thought I would go out too,” said she. Sir Lionel said not a word. He felt too much ashamed to turn back now, and was too politic to allow her to see any open signs that he was in full flight; so he quietly got into the carriage, and took his seat by her side. Whipping up the horses, he drove them at a headlong rate of speed out through the streets into the country. His whole soul was full of mad fury. Rage and disappointment together excited his brain to madness; and the fierce rush of the impetuous steeds was in accordance with the excitement of his mind. At length the horses themselves grew fatigued, and slackened their pace. Sir Lionel still tried to urge them forward, but in vain, and at last he flung down the whip with a curse. “I'll not stand this any longer!” he cried, vehemently, addressing his “keeper,” but not looking at her. “What?” said she. “This style of being dogged and tracked and watched.” “You allude to me, I suppose,” said Lady Dudleigh. “At any rate, you must allow that it is better to be tracked, as you call it, by me, than by the officers of the law.” “I don't care,” growled Sir Lionel, gathering courage. “I'll not stand this style of thing any longer. I'll not let them have it all their own way.” “I don't see what you can do,” said Lady Dudleigh, quietly. “Do!” cried Sir Lionel, in a still more violent tone--“do! I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll fight it out.” “Fight!”