ty has
eloped with Vernon Ashley. He was her lover all the while, though she
made you think he was Ela's. Now that she has deceived you, it is
imperative for you to marry some one else immediately, lest by the terms
of your father's will you lose your grand inheritance!'"

The blue eyes beamed, and the rosy mouth dimpled proudly as Dainty's
thoughts ran on happily.

"They will be fit to die of rage when they hear my darling laugh them to
scorn, and say: 'All your wicked plots to part me from my love are in
vain! I knew you were scheming to do this all along, so I forestalled
you by making her my wife in secret two weeks ago, and the _denouement_
of to-day shows me how wisely I acted. Now you must restore my love to
me, or I will denounce you to the world for your treachery!'"

This was how Dainty pictured it to herself, and in her excitement it
seemed to her that Love would be coming directly to release her from
her confinement, because they could have no interest in keeping them
apart any longer, knowing that they were married now, and that there was
no chance for Olive and Ela to get him away from his wedded wife.

Oh, how impatient she grew, waiting and hoping for him to come! But long
hours of silence and solitude dragged by, till her brave heart began to
fail, and she sobbed, piteously:

"Perhaps they are unrelenting in their hate, and will not tell him where
to find me. They may leave me here to starve and die!"

Already she felt faint from lack of food, and her heart sank hopelessly
from its new dread. She fell on her knees, and prayed to Heaven to have
pity on her sorrow, and send her speedy rescue.

It was indeed a sight to move the pity of Heaven; the innocent,
white-gowned girl kneeling on the cold stone floor of the damp cell,
with her bare feet and naked arms and shoulders, her appealing blue eyes
raised upward, the golden hair streaming like a shining veil about her
slender form, her sweet lips moving in prayer to God. Would He indeed
hear that prayer unmoved, or would He send her relief?

The slow hours dragged away without interruption, and she saw with
terror that her miserable light began to flicker with exhaustion. Soon
the desolation of darkness would be added to loneliness and hunger.

CHAPTER XXII.

UNMASKED.

Dainty fell back, sobbing, on her hard couch, her frame shaking as with
an ague chill.

The horror of her position was enough to drive her mad.

It seemed to her that