I exclaimed, harshly. "It shames
humanity. Acknowledge yourself at once the faithful agent of a tyrant
and felon, or a pair of them, and I shall respect you more. Confess that
it was the voice of Basil Bainrothe I heard at my cabin-door, and that
Captain Van Dorne was imposed upon by that specious scoundrel, even to
the point of being conscientiously compelled to falsehood.

"I deny nothing--I acknowledge nothing," she said, deliberately. "You
and your friends can settle this between yourselves when they arrive.
Until then, you need not seek to tamper with me--it will be useless; and
I hope you are too much of a lady to be insulting to a person who has
no choice but to do her duty."

She could not more effectually have silenced me, nor more utterly have
crushed my hopes. Yet again I approached her with entreaties.

"I hope you will not refuse to mail my notes, even under these trying
circumstances," I said, extending them to her.

"You can ask Dr. Englehart to do so when he comes," he answered, gently;
"for myself, I am utterly powerless to serve you beyond the walls of
this chamber."

"And how long is this close immurement to continue?" I asked again,
after another dreary pause. "Am I not permitted to breathe the external
air--to exercise? Is my health to be unconsidered?"

"I know nothing more than I have told you," she replied. "I am directed
to furnish you with every means of comfort--with books, flowers,
clothing, musical instrument, even, if you desire it; but, for the
present, you will not leave these walls, and you will see no society.
The doctor has decided that this is best."

"And whence did he derive his authority?"

"Oh, it was all arranged between him and Mr. Bainrothe, your guardeen"
(for thus she pronounced this word, ever hateful to me), "long ago;
before he went to France, I suppose. Captain Van Dorne had nothing to do
but hand you over."

"Captain Van Dorne! To think those honest eyes could so deceive me!" and
I shook my head wofully.

When I looked up again from reverie, Mrs. Clayton had settled herself to
work with a basket of stockings on her knees, which she appeared to be
assorting assiduously.

There she sat, spectacles on nose, thimble on twisted finger, ivory-egg
in hand, in active preparation for that work, woman's _par excellence_,
that alone rivals Penelope's. Surely that assortment of yellow,
ill-mated, half-worn, and holey hose, was a treasure to her, that no
gold could hav