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many large, comfortable chairs. Beside each chair stood a small table to hold fruit or tea or other oddments as one read. A large fireplace would keep the room cosy in winter, for the many bookshelves would prevent any draft. But dominating the room was a desk littered with books and papers. Clearly this belonged to Sir Leslie. I shuddered and wondered if I could be comfortable in a room so ruled by his effects. But I ! determined to try, for if I could not even face this room, how. should I face Sir Leslie? And face him I must, for there had to be a reckoning. Accordingly, I asked Mrs. Morgan if I might spend the rest of the day here.
    “Of course,” she replied, “Sir Leslie’s given orders yer to be allowed wherever ye wish about the castle and grounds so long as we’re certain yer not trying to run away.”
    It was more than I had expected of Sir Leslie, yet I was angry that he had given orders to have me watched. Perhaps he hopes, I thought bitterly, I shall become so afraid and unhappy that I shall kill myself and the problem cease to exist for him. Well, he should not find me so craven. I chose a book and, tucking my feet under me, curled up in a chair.
    Thus began my imprisonment at Sir Leslie’s castle, for that was how I thought of it. I was treated kindly, but nevertheless, I was a prisoner. If I went for a walk, someone must accompany me. And at night my bedchamber door was bolted shut. True, it was I who bolted the door, yet this did not make me less a prisoner. For as long as I felt the need to bolt my doors, I could not call myself free. I spent much of my time in the library and walking about the estate. There was a garden which, had Sir Leslie cared about such things, might have brightened the castle in spring and summer. There were fields, and some distance from the castle, a copse of trees beside a stream. But the nearest of dwellings were well away from the castle and it seemed the servants had orders to keep me out of sight of strangers. As the days passed I grew calmer and firmer in my resolve to face Sir Leslie as soon as he might return. And yet, when, on the ninth day, I saw his phaeton approaching, I fled to my chamber and bolted the doors. It was a hen-witted notion, of course, since he must inevitably find me there. Too late I realised my error.

 
    Chapter 3
    From my chamber, I heard Sir Leslie’s muffled voice shouting orders. Then silence. I waited, my heart pounding, for a summons I dreaded yet was not certain would come. After some time, there was a knock at my door. “Yes,” I called, “who is it?”
    “Margaret, ma’am. Sir Leslie wishes to speak with you in the library.”
    “All—all right. Tell Sir Leslie I shall be down in a moment,” I replied, not at all sure I would be.
    “Begging your pardon, ma’am. Sir Leslie said I was to bring you,” she answered, as nervous as I.
    So, the matter was not to be evaded any longer. Taking a deep breath, I unbolted the door to the hallway. “I’m ready,” I said.
    “Your hair, ma’am?” Margaret suggested.
    I stepped back to look at the mirror. She was quite right, my hair was disarrayed. I retightened the knot at the top of my head and pinned the few stray strands of hair. Then I was as ready as I could be and we began the long walk to the library. Margaret opened the library doors and held them for me. Once I was inside, however, they closed behind me and I was alone with Sir Leslie. I advanced with as much dignity as I could muster to his desk. He stared at me for some time before he said, “Please sit down, Miss Wade.”
    “I would rather stand,” I replied.
    Carefully, he examined me from head to foot. “Miss Wade, I wish to, discuss with you the event that has occurred and certain steps I have taken. I cannot do so if you remain standing.”
    I sat. Such was the force of his voice. He continued to regard me warily. “Are you well?” he asked. “Have you any complaints about your treatment while I was