In the midst of that wild uproar which had roused Dacres and Mrs. Willoughby there was nothing that startled him so much as her declaration that she was not Arethusa.  He stood bewildered.  While she was listening to the sounds, he was listening to the echo of her words; while she was wondering at the cause of such a tumult, he was wondering at this disclosure.  In a moment a thousand little things suggested themselves as he stood there in his confusion, which little things all went to throw a flood of light upon her statement, and prove that she was another person than that “demon wife” who had been the cause of all his woes.  Her soft glance, her gentle manner, her sweet and tender expression—­above all, the tone of her voice; all these at once opened his eyes.  In the course of their conversation she had spoken in a low tone, often in a whisper, so that this fact with regard to the difference of voice had not been perceptible; but her last words were spoken louder, and he observed the difference.

Now the tumult grew greater, and the reports of the rifles more frequent.  The noise was communicated to the house, and in the rooms and the hall below there were tramplings of feet, and hurryings to and fro, and the rattle of arms, and the voices of men, in the midst of which rose the stern command of Girasole.

“Forward!  Follow me!”

Then the distant reports grew nearer and yet nearer, and all the men rushed from the house, and their tramp was heard outside as they hurried away to the scene of conflict.

“It’s an attack!  The brigands are attacked!” cried Mrs. Willoughby.

Dacres said nothing.  He was collecting his scattered thoughts.

“Oh, may Heaven grant that we may be saved!  Oh, it is the troops—­it must be!  Oh, Sir, come, come; help us to escape!  My darling sister is here.  Save her!”

“Your sister?” cried Dacres.

“Oh yes; come, save her!  My sister—­my darling Minnie!”

With these words Mrs. Willoughby rushed from the room.

“Her sister! her sister!” repeated Dacres—­“Fay! Her sister!  Good Lord!  What a most infernal ass I’ve been making of myself this last month!”

He stood still for a few moments, overwhelmed by this thought, and apparently endeavoring to realize the full extent and enormous size and immense proportions, together with the infinite extent of ear, appertaining to the ass to which he had transformed himself; but finally he shook his head despondingly, as though he gave it up altogether.  Then he hurried after Mrs. Willoughby.

Mrs. Willoughby rushed into Minnie’s room, and clasped her sister in her arms with frantic tears and kisses.

“Oh, my precious darling!” she exclaimed.

“Oh dear!” said Minnie, “isn’t this really too bad?  I was so tired, you know, and I was just beginning to go to sleep, when those horrid men began firing their guns.  I really do think that every body is banded together to tease me.  I do wish they’d all go away and let me have a little peace.  I am so tired and sleepy!”