"Talk on, Katie," sighed Claudia.

"But, 'deed, I'm feared I shall hurt your feelings, honey."

"You cannot do that."

"Well, then, honey--but 'deed you must excuse me, Miss Claudia, because I wouldn't say a word, only I think how it is my bounden duty."

"For Heaven's sake, Katie, say what you wish to without so much preface."

"Well, then, Miss Claudia--laws, honey, I's nussed you ever since you was borned, and been like another mammy to you ever since your own dear mammy went to heaven, and if I haven't got a right to speak free, I'd like to know who has!"

"Certainly; certainly! Only, in mercy, go on!" exclaimed Claudia, who, fevered, excited, and nearly maddened by what she had overheard, could scarcely be patient with her old servant.

"Well, Miss Claudia, honey, it is all about this strange foreign 'oman as is a-wisiting here."

"Ah!" exclaimed Claudia, looking up and becoming at once interested.

"Miss Claudia, honey, that 'oman aint no fitting company for you.

She aint."

"Ah! what do you know of her?" inquired Claudia in a low, breathless, eager voice.

"Honey, I cotch my eye on her dis evening. You see dis was de way of it, chile. I was in dis very room; but I hadn't lighted up de lamps, so I was in 'parative darkness, and de big hall was in 'parative light; so dey couldn't see me, but I could see dem, when dey come into de big hall, her and my lordship. And I seen her how she look at him, and smile on him, and coo over him like any turkle dove, as no 'spectable lady would ever do. And so dey walks into dat room, opposite to dis."

"Katie, I do not wish to hear any more of this stuff. You forget yourself, surely!" said Lady Vincent, suddenly waking to the consciousness that she was compromising her dignity in listening to the tale-bearing of a servant, even so old and tried as Katie was.

"Very well, Miss Claudia, honey, you knows best; but take one piece of advice from de best friend you's got on dis side o' de big water.

You 'void dat 'oman. Oh, Miss Claudia, chile! wouldn't you keep out'n de way of anybody as had de smallpox or any other deadly plague? Tell me dat!"

"Of course I would."

"Oh, Miss Claudia, honey, listen to me, den! Dere is worser plagues dan de smallpox; more 'fectious and more fatal, too. Moral plagues!

De fust plague, Miss Claudia, can only disfigur' de face and kill de body; but de las' plague can disfigur' de heart and kill de soul.

Miss Claudia, 'void dat 'oman! She'll 'fect you with the moral plague as is deadly to de heart and soul," said the old woman, with a manner of deep solemnity.

Claudia was moved. She shook as she answered:

"Katie, you mean well; but let us talk no more of this tonight. And whatever your thoughts may be of this evil woman, I must beg that you will not utter them to any one of the other servants."

"I won't, Miss Claudia. I won't speak of her to nobody but you."

"Nor to me, unless I ask you. And now, Katie, bring me my dressing gown and help me to disrobe. I am tired to death."

"And no wonder, honey," said the old woman, as she went to obey.

When she had arranged her young mistress at ease in dressing gown and slippers, in the resting chair, she would still have lingered near her, tendering little offices of affection, but Claudia, wishing to be alone, dismissed her.

Lady Vincent had need of solitude for reflection.

As soon as old Katie had left her alone she clasped her hands and fell back in her chair, exclaiming: "What shall I do? Oh! what shall I do?"

She tried to think; but in the whirl of her emotions, thought was very difficult, almost impossible. She felt that she had been deceived and betrayed; and that her situation was critical and perilous in the extreme. What should she do? to whom should she appeal? how should she escape? where should she go?

Should she now "beard the lion in his den"; charge Lord Vincent with his perfidy, duplicity, treachery, and meditated crime; demand the instantaneous dismissal of Faustina; and insist upon an immediate introduction to his family as the only means of safety to herself?

Where would be the good of that? She, a "stranger in a strange land," an inmate of a remote coast fortress, was absolutely in Lord Vincent's power. He would deride her demands and defy her wrath.

Should she openly attempt to leave the castle and return to her native country and her friends? Again, what would be the good of such an attempt? Her departure, she felt sure, would never be permitted.

Should she try to make her escape secretly? That would be difficult or impossible. The castle stood upon the extreme point of its high promontory, overlooking the sea; it was remote from any other dwelling; the roads leading from it were for miles impassable to foot passengers. And besides all this, Claudia was unwilling to take such a very undignified course.

In fact, she was unwilling to abandon her position at all--painful and dangerous as it was; having purchased it at a high price she felt like retaining end defending it.

What then should she do? The answer came like an inspiration. Write to her father to come over immediately to her aid. And get him to bring about her introduction to the Earl of Hurstmonceux's family and her recognition by their circle. This course, she thought, would secure her personal safety and her social position, if not her domestic happiness; for the latter she had never dared to hope.

And while waiting for her father's arrival, she would be "wise as serpents," if not "harmless as doves." She would meet Lord Vincent on his own grounds and fight him with his own weapons; she would beat duplicity with duplicity.

But first to write the letter to her father and dispatch it secretly by the first mail. She arose and rang the bell.

Katie answered it.

"Unpack my little writing desk and place it on this stand beside me."

Katie did as she was ordered.

"Now lock the door and wait here until I write a letter."

Katie obeyed and then seated herself on a footstool near her lady's feet.

Claudia opened her writing desk; but paused long, pen in hand, reflecting how she had better write this letter.

If she should tell her father at once of all the horror of her position the sudden news might throw him into a fit of apoplexy and kill him instantly.

And on the other hand, if she were to conceal all this and merely write him a pressing invitation to come over immediately, he might take his time over it.

Speed Claudia felt to be of the utmost importance to her cause. So, after due reflection, she dipped her pen in ink, and commenced as follows:

"Castle Cragg, near Banff, Buchan, Scotland.

"My Dearest Father: We are all in good health; therefore do not be alarmed, even though I earnestly implore you to drop everything that you may have in hand, and come over to me immediately, by the very first steamer that sails after your receipt of this letter. Father, you will comply with my entreaty when I inform you that I have been deceived and betrayed by him who swore to protect and cherish me. My life and honor are both imperiled. I will undertake to guard both for a month, until you come. But come at once to your wronged, though "Loving child, "Claudia."

She sealed the letter very carefully, directed it, and gave it into the hands of her old servant, saying:

"Katie, listen to every word I say, and obey to the very letter.

Take this downstairs and give it to Jim privately. Let no one see, or hear, or even suspect what you are doing. Tell him to steal out carefully from the castle and walk to the nearest roadside inn, and hire a horse and ride to Banff, and mail this letter there; and then come back and report progress to you. Now, Katie, do you understand what you have got to do?"

"Yes, Miss Claudia."

"Repeat it to me, then."