toss about and dream of dreadful accidents to Amy, with which Wyck was
somehow connected, while he himself lay powerless to rescue her,
fighting fiercely against the invisible hands which kept his hands tied,
and his limbs stiff and helpless.

CHAPTER V.

THE OATH.

"Reg, Reg, get up," said Whyte, entering Morris's room the next morning.

"Hallo, dad, what time is it?"

"One o'clock, lad."

Ten minutes later Reg was down to his breakfast. The reminiscences of
the previous night had come back to him, and were very bitter.

"Is Amy up yet?" he asked.

"Yes, and gone out," said Whyte, looking anxiously at him.

"What!" cried Reg, in surprise.

"About an hour ago," continued Whyte. "She came out of her room fully
dressed for walking out, and looking as miserable as possible. I asked
her where she was going, but she seemed not to notice, and only came up
to me and flung her arms round my neck, kissed me, and left the room."

"Did she not say where she was going to?"

"No, lad; she said nothing."

"What would you suggest doing, Whyte? Shall I go and hunt this fellow
Wyckliffe up, and ask him what he means?"

"No, lad. That will do little good. We will speak to Amy herself when
she returns. Dear, dear! I fancy her brain must be touched," and the
sympathetic old fellow walked hurriedly away to conceal the tears that
would fall.

Reg walked to the garden with a heavy heart. There were all the pets
waiting for their mistress. The dogs ran to him with yelps of enquiry;
the birds twittered plaintively, as if they felt something was wrong.
Reg stooped and patted the dogs, and it seemed a relief to his bursting
heart to tell them all his forebodings for the happiness of their home.

The weary hours passed, and Amy returned. Her usually bright manner had
disappeared; her step had lost its lightness, and there was an air of
languor about her, very foreign to her nature. As she caught sight of
Reg she hung down her head, and passed rapidly into the house, taking
no notice of the dogs who bounded towards her barking with delight. Reg
slowly followed her, his face revealing the troubles of his heart.

"My darling girl," said Mrs. Whyte, as she met her in the passage and,
fondly throwing her arms around her, drawing her into the room. "Won't
you trust us and tell us what is the matter?"

"Don't ask me, mother," said Amy, bursting into tears.

"Look here, Amy," said Whyte, coming forward and vainly trying to