Ida hurried back to the depot, purchased her ticket, and boarded the train for home.

She had scarcely stepped from the ticket-agent's window,[218] ere the policeman who had directed her to the pawn-shop accosted the agent.

"Where did that veiled woman buy her ticket for? What is her destination?" he whispered.

He told him, and the officer jotted down the name of the station in his note-book.

With the money securely in her possession, Ida reached home. Dusk had crept up; the stars were out in the sky.

She succeeded in gaining her own room unobserved. She was tired and hungry; indeed, she had not thought of food since she had left the house early in the day.

She threw off the long black cloak, the bonnet, thick veil, and black dress she had worn on her visit to Washington. After bathing her face in fragrant water and donning a silken house-robe, Ida rang the bell for her maid.

"Nora," she said, "you may bring me a cup of tea and a biscuit."

"I am very glad that you are awake at last," said Nora. "I wanted very much to tell you something; but as you bid me not to disturb you on any account, I dared not come and knock on the door, ma'am."

"You are quite right," said Ida, wearily, "not to disturb me. I needed rest—rest," said Ida, brokenly.

"I wanted to tell you about the man who was skulking in the grounds. I was hurrying along here a few moments ago, when some one sprung out from behind the rose-bushes and grasped me by the arm.

"I certainly would have cried out with terror, but he put his hand over my mouth.

"'Keep still, and I won't hurt you,' he said, with an oath.

"Trembling with terror, I stood still. I saw that he[219] was a gentleman; but I noticed also that he was very much under the influence of wine.

"'Tell me, are you one of the maids from the house?' he asked.

"'Yes,' I answered.

"'Do you know me?' he questioned.

"'No,' I replied. 'I am a stranger in the village. I have only been in my lady's employ a little more than a fortnight.'

"'I want you to give your mistress this,' he said, producing an envelope from his pocket."

She did not add that the stranger had given her a bill to insure the safe delivery of his message, and to keep her from saying anything about it.

As the girl spoke, she produced an envelope.

Even before the hapless Ida saw it, she knew full well from whom it came.

Poor, hapless Ida! She sunk down into the nearest seat, white as she would ever be in death. She did not dare open it until after the girl had gone for the tea.

She drank it eagerly.

"Please bring me another cup, Nora," she said, "stronger than the first."

"I am afraid that you have a fever, my lady," said the girl, anxiously.

"I am only thirsty. You may as well take the biscuit back; I am afraid it would choke me," said Ida.

"But you must be hungry," persisted the maid. "I am sure you have eaten nothing since breakfast time."

When the girl had gone, Ida tore open the envelope, and read:

    "My clever little wife, I am here a day earlier than I anticipated. Meet me at once in the same place. Of[220] course you have the money by this time. Bring it with you."

She crushed the note in her hand. No one heard the gasping, the bitter sob, the despairing cry she uttered. The iron had entered her soul. There was nothing but to obey his commands.

The girl had said that he was under the influence of wine.

Ida had seen h............