lessly, blinked with her blue eyes, looked at me, and smiled.

"What o'clock is it, Carus?" she began; then a sudden consternation
sobered her, and she cried, "Oh, I forgot where we are! Mercy! To think
that I should wake to find myself a runaway! Carus, Carus, what in the
world is to become of me now? Where are we, Carus?"

"At the Blue Fox, near North Castle," I said gaily. "Why, Elsin--why,
child, what on earth is the matter?"--for the tears had rushed to her
eyes, and her woful little face quivered. A single tear fell, then the
wet lashes closed.

"O Carus! Carus!" she said, "what will become of me? You did it--you
made me do it! I've run away with you--why did you make me do it? Oh,
why, why?"

Dumb, miserable, I could only look at her, finding no word of
comfort--amazed, too, that the feverish spirit, the courage, the
amazing energy of the night before had exhaled, distilling now in the
tears which dazed me.

"I don't know why I came here with you," she whimpered, eyes closed on
her wet cheeks--"I must have been mad to do so. What will they
say?--what will Rosamund say? Why don't you speak to me, Carus? Why
don't you tell me what to do?"

And this from that high-strung, nerveless maid who had matured to
womanhood in the crisis of the night before--seizing command of a
menacing situation through sheer effrontery and wit, compelling fate
itself to swerve aside as she led our galloping horses through the
slowly closing gates of peril.

Her head drooped and lay on the edge of the bed pillowed by the
flowered curtains; she rubbed the tears from her eyes with white
fingers, drawing a deep, unsteady breath or two.

I had found my voice at last, assuring her that all was well, that she
should have a flag when she desired it, that here nobody knew who she
was, and that when she was dressed I was ready to discuss the situation
and do whatever was most advisable.

"If there's a scandal," she said dolefully, "I suppose I must ask a
flag at once."

"That would be best," I admitted.

"But there's no scandal yet," she protested.

"Not a breath!" I cried cheerfully. "You see, we have the situation in
our own hands. Where is that wit, where is that gay courage you wore
like magic armor through the real perils of yesterday?"

"Gone," she said, looking up at me. "I don't know where it is--I--I was
not myself yesterday. I was frightened--terror spurred me to things I
never dreamed of when I thought of you hanging the