he door caught
her ear. She had fancied herself brave enough an instant before, but in
the darkness a great horror of fear came on her. She stood rooted to the
spot; and heard the noise again. It was followed by the sound of a hand
passed stealthily over the panels; a hand seeking, as she thought, for
the key; and she could have shrieked in her helplessness. But while she
stood, her face turned to stone, came instant relief, A voice, subdued
in fear, whispered, 'Hist, ma'am, hist! Are you asleep?'

She could have fallen on her knees in her thankfulness. 'No! no!' she
cried eagerly. 'Who is it?'

'It is me--Olney!' was the answer. 'Keep a heart, ma'am! They are gone
to bed. You are quite safe.'

'Can you let me out?' Julia cried. 'Oh, let me out!'

'Let you out?'

'Yes, yes! Let me out? Please let me out.'

'God forbid, ma'am!' was the horrified answer. 'He'd kill me. And he has
the key. But--'

'Yes? yes?'

'Keep your heart up, ma'am, for Jarvey'll not see you hurt; nor will I.
You may sleep easy. And good-night!'

She stole away before Julia could answer; but she left comfort. In a
glow of thankfulness the girl pushed a chair against the door, and,
wrapping herself for warmth in the folds of the shabby curtains, lay
down on the window seat. She was willing to sleep now, but the agitation
of her thoughts, the whirl of fear and hope that prevailed in them, as
she went again and again over the old ground, kept her long awake. The
moon had risen and run its course, decking the old garden with a solemn
beauty as of death, and was beginning to retreat before the dawn, when
Julia slept at last.

When she awoke it was broad daylight. A moment she gazed upwards,
wondering where she was; the next a harsh grating sound, and the echo of
a mocking laugh brought her to her feet in a panic of remembrance.

The key was still turning in the lock--she saw it move, saw it
withdrawn; but the room was empty. And while she stood staring and
listening heavy footsteps retired along the passage. The chair which she
had set against the door had been pushed back, and milk and bread stood
on the floor beside it.

She drew a deep breath; he had been there. But her worst terrors had
passed with the night. The sun was shining, filling her with scorn of
her gaoler. She panted to be face to face with him, that she might cover
him with ridicule, overwhelm him with the shafts of her woman's wit, and
show him how little she feared and how