been narrated to her over and over by each of the three who had witnessed it, and each gave the narrative her own coloring.  Lady Dalrymple’s account was humorous; Mrs. Willoughby’s indignant; Minnie’s sentimental.  Out of all these Ethel gained a fourth idea, compounded of these three, which again blended with another, and an original one of her own, gained from a personal observation of the Baron, whose appearance on the stairs and impatient summons for “Min” were very vividly impressed on her memory.  In addition to this there was the memory of that day on which they endeavored to fight off the enemy.

That was, indeed, a memorable day, and was now alluded to by them all as the day of the siege.  It was not without difficulty that they had withstood Minnie’s earnest protestations, and intrenched themselves.  But Mrs. Willoughby was obdurate, and Minnie’s tears, which flowed freely, were unavailing.

Then there came the first knock of the impatient and aggressive visitor, followed by others in swift succession, and in ever-increasing power.  Every knock went to Minnie’s heart.  It excited an unlimited amount of sympathy for the one who had saved her life, and was now excluded from her door.  But as the knocks grew violent and imperative, and Minnie grew sad and pitiful, the other ladies grew indignant.  Lady Dalrymple was on the point of sending off for the police, and only Minnie’s frantic entreaties prevented this.  At last the door seemed almost beaten in, and their feelings underwent a change.  They were convinced that he was mad, or else intoxicated.  Of the madness of love they did not think.  Once convinced that he was mad, they became terrified.  The maids all hid themselves.  None of them now would venture out even to call the police.  They expected that the concierge would interpose, but in vain.  The concierge was bribed.

After a very eventful day night came.  They heard footsteps pacing up and down, and knew that it was their tormentor.  Minnie’s heart again melted with tender pity for the man whose love for her had turned his head, and she begged to be allowed to speak to him.  But this was not permitted.  So she went to bed and fell asleep.  So, in process of time, did the others, and the night passed without any trouble.  Then morning came, and there was a debate as to who should confront the enemy.  There was no noise, but they knew that he was there.  At last Lady Dalrymple summoned up her energies, and went forth to do battle.  The result has already been described in the words of the bold Baron himself.

But even this great victory did not reassure the ladies.  Dreading another visit, they hurried away to a hotel, leaving the maids to follow with the luggage as soon as possible.  On the following morning they had left the city.

Events so very exciting as these had produced a very natural effect upon the mind of Ethel.  They had thrown her thoughts out of their old groove, and fixed them in a new one.  Besides, the fact that she was actually leaving the man who had caused her so much sorrow was already a partial relief.  She had dreaded meeting him so much that she had been forced to keep herself a prisoner.  A deep grief still remained in her heart; but, at any rate, there was now some pleasure to be felt, if only of a superficial kind.