"And she is raving about it, poor soul. Oh, dear me, we must send for Dr. Gay."

"Yes, you had better send for Dr. Gay instantly, Chetwode. What may the nature of her ravings be?" inquired the colonel, blandly.

"All sorts of things: that your dog there was at her door all night, and--and other fancies."

"Ah!" in a tone of sympathetic interest; "unfortunate girl! Here, Argus, good dog, speak up for your character, my boy!"

The dog blinked his small blood-shot eyes, and rose to shake himself, as if he meditated a spring upon his traducer.

"Oh, Lor', don't show me to him," exclaimed Mrs. Chetwode, shrinking out of view.

The colonel showed his long, hungry teeth, by way of grim smile, and gave the animal a kick. "Don't be afraid. Are you going to send, then, for Miss Walsingham's friends?"

"Would you say so, sir?" said the anxious creature, wavering between the desire to humor her young mistress, and the fear of disobeying the colonel.

"I would say so, certainly. The affair of the attempted robbery should certainly be followed up for one thing; her state of mind attended to for another."

Margaret's bell rang, and Mrs. Chetwode went up stairs, almost afraid to venture near her again.

"Has Symonds got the carriage ready?" cried Margaret, the instant she appeared.

She was sitting with her bonnet on, dressed for her drive, with a satchel in her hand.

"Lor', you're not fit to go out," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Chetwode, in amazement.

"We're going to have Dr. Gay up to the castle, since you want him so, my deary."

"Did Colonel Brand say I was not to leave the house?" demanded Margaret.

"He thinks you're not well enough, that's a fact."

"I defy him, or any one to keep me prisoner here. You must disregard him, Mrs. Chetwode, and get me driven down to Regis."

"I'm afeard to do it, Miss Margaret."

"Then I shall defy him, and go before his eyes. Get Symonds ready silently, that there may be no opposition. As you value my life, go."

Mrs. Chetwode, torn between two influences, and always subject to the latest, bounded out of the room as if the limbs of twenty years ago had been miraculously granted her, and went stealthily enough down the long stairs to the servant's quarters.

In fifteen minutes she ventured back with a bottle of wine under her ap.r.o.n.

"He's ready, miss, and at the lower door. You needn't meet the colonel at all; he's just gone into the library, and shut himself in. Now, my poor miss, you must drink something before you go to strengthen you, and eat a bite."

"Nothing in this house--no!" cried Margaret, shuddering; "I cannot be sure of even the food!"

"Don't let them put you in a hasylum, deary love; be careful what you say, now won't you?"

"No fear of that with these papers," replied Margaret, holding up the satchel exultingly.

By dint of perseverance the housekeeper prevailed upon her to drink a gla.s.s of wine.

It is doubtful if she could have walked down stairs, and borne the ordeal of her terror, but for this stimulant. But she reached the lower door, and entered the carriage safely.

The colonel, after all his watching, was strangely derelict now, when he had most cause for vigilance, and seemed quite unconscious that his enemy was escaping to her friends, out of his reach.

Margaret's eyes traveled once over the towers and battlements of gloomy Castle Brand, as they left it behind. They seemed to look a long farewell--perhaps a farewell which would last forever; and then a turn in the narrow stable-road brought a grim brick wall between her and her castle, and she sank back upon the carriage-seat.

Ten minutes after her departure Colonel Brand came out of the library, with his slouching dog at his heels, and called the housekeeper.

"Here's a note to Dr. Gay, informing him of Miss Walsingham's state. Can you send a messenger with it to the village immediately?"

Chetwode turned livid and then gray; held out her hand for the note and drew it back again.

The colonel's eyes scintillated in a way that made her blood run cold, and his boding smile was a failure as far as rea.s.suring her went.

"What's the matter, woman? Have you the presumption to refuse to send a messenger at my request?"

"I couldn't help it," stammered the old woman, bursting into sobs; "she wouldn't hear to one word, and she--she's off to Regis."

"Who? Miss Walsingham? Have you let her leave the castle after all?"

"Lor', master, she was set to go. I thought it wouldn't make much difference whether she was took from Dr. Gay's to the mad-house or from here."

"You are right," muttered the colonel, grimly. "It makes no difference."

He tore his note in two, pushed the housekeeper rudely out of his way, and strode out to the solitary Waaste.

The Brand carriage stopped opposite Lawyer Davenport's office door, and Symonds dismounted.

"Why," exclaimed Miss Walsingham, opening the window, "I do believe the door is locked. Surely he has gone away very early in the morning."

Symonds rapped and tried the door--peeped through the dusty window, and found that Miss Walsingham was right.

"We shall go up to his house," she said, pulling up the window.

Arriving at Mr. Davenport's neat and commodious bachelor's abode, Symonds, after inquiry, reported that the lawyer had left on "sudden business this morning for Wales; they don't know where or when he's coming back, but you will hear all about it from Dr. Gay; which was the message left for you."

Again Margaret leaned back in her seat. A look of bitter disappointment and even terror was depicted upon her face.

Once more they rolled into Regis over the slushy snow, and paused at the doctor's house.

Former disappointments had made her so nervous and fearful that she dropped the window and bent forward the better to hear the report.

"Here's Miss Walsingham, to see Dr. Gay. Is he in?"

"No," answered the boy in b.u.t.tons, "he's away."

"What hour will yer master be at home?"