"So our little Ladybird is not married at all! I always half-doubted that story, but there is something very strange in this prevarication and concealment," he said thoughtfully. "Then, dearest, you will go at once to see Mr. Stanley, for I cannot rest until I have that poor, unhappy child under my protection," cried his wife, the tears breaking forth at memory of Ladybird's black dress and pathetic face. "I shall go at once," he replied, and when he had kissed her and hurried away she sat down to write a letter to Earle, who was lingering in the South with a party of friends. She knew intuitively that her boy's heart was very sore over the supposed marriage of Ladybird, and would not delay the glad tidings that his capricious little sweetheart was still free. What joy it would carry to him, and perhaps hasten his return! But when the senator returned Mrs. Winans saw at once that his efforts had been in vain. "I have failed," he said sadly. "Failed! Oh, Paul!" "Mr. Stanley refuses to give up Ladybird. By her father's will, he is her guardian until she marries or reaches the age of twenty. He has the law on his side, and we seem powerless. But do not sob so bitterly, my darling, for we will try to find some way to rescue our imprisoned bird." CHAPTER XXXII. THE NUN AT THE BAL MASQUE. "Is it true that many hands Find that rosary a chain? True that 'neath those snowy bands Throbs full oft a restless brain? True that simple robe of gray Covers oft a troubled breast? True that pain and passion's sway Enters even in this rest?" --MARY LOWE DICKINSON. Mrs. Winans hoped great things from her letter to Earle. She believed that his love for Ladybird would solve the problem of all difficulties that hedged the young girl's future. Lawyer Stanley had told Senator Winans that his authority over his ward would cease at her marriage, or on her attaining the age of twenty. In the former clause there appeared the one possibility of escape from the clutches of her unkind guardian. "If she and Earle could only make up their quarrel all might end well," she thought, with all the complacency of a match-making mamma. Three days after her call on the Stanleys the post brought her a letter from Ladybird that she welcomed with delight, because she foresaw that it would make her plans easier in every way. Ladybird had written in a burst of tenderness and penitence: "They will not let me come to you, nor write to you, my kind, kind friend; but I have bribed a servant to mail this letter to you.