s both out; it will be the
death of me, and you will be to blame."

"The sooner the better," I rejoined, heartlessly.

"Ah, Miss Monfort, you have no better friend than I am, perhaps, but you
are ungrateful."

"I hope not; but some things of late have shaken, I confess, what little
faith I had in you; this confiscation of my property is one of them."

"You know why this is done; I need not explain, but I shall trust you
fearlessly in Dinah's society in future. I believe you have no other
treasure to bribe her with," and, smiling in her sardonic way, she
turned and limped to her bedroom, which it had cost her so great an
effort to leave. Her groans and moans during the remainder of the
evening were piteous, and Dinah could do nothing to comfort her. A
sudden determination possessed me. My own system recuperated rapidly,
and after a nervous headache I was always conscious of renewed vital
power and of keener sensations. I would try the experiment once
more--hazarded under circumstances so different that it made me
tremulous but to think of the vast abyss between my _now_ and then--and
essay, to magnetize Mrs. Clayton.

She could not sleep naturally, and she feared evidently to avail herself
of opiates, lest in her heavy slumber, perhaps, I should escape. In her
normal condition this seemed impossible, for she slept habitually as
lightly as a cat, or bird upon its perch, yet lying, and with her key
beneath her head (never dreaming of other outlet) she felt at ease. I
had already learned that since her illness there were additional
precautions taken to insure my safety, and, as she had alleged, her own
fidelity.

The Dragon was watched in turn by a Cerberus--no other than the
long-trusted colored coachman of Basil Bainrothe, of whom mention has
been made far back in these pages.

Thus secure and secured, Mrs. Clayton might have surrendered herself to
slumber with all serenity, one would suppose, had it not absolutely
refused to visit her eyelids, and the suggestion of an opiate, on my
part, was received for some reason in dumb derision.

I went to her at last, and said: "Mrs. Clayton, I hear you groaning
grievously, and I fancy I could relieve you. The laying on of hands is a
sort of gift of mine; let me try by such means to ease your pain."

"Thank you, Miss Monfort," very dryly, "you are very kind, indeed, but I
don't think you can relieve me. I have excruciating neuralgia in my
eyebones and temples, and my han