She heard the clock in the hall strike two.  Even the servants would not be stirring before five; so she had at least three hours to sit there alone and exposed to danger from tramps, thieves, and burglars, if any should happen to come about.

And oh, the miserable prospect before her when this trying vigil should be over.  How grieved mamma would be! dear mamma, whom she loved with true daughterly affection; how stern and angry Grandpa Dinsmore, how astonished and displeased all the others; how wicked and supremely silly they would think her.

Perhaps she could bribe the servants to keep her secret (her dress, her travelling bag and the early hour would reveal something of its nature), and gain her rooms again without being seen by any of the family; but then her life would be one of constant terror of discovery.

Should she try that course, or the more straightforward one of not attempting any concealment?

She was still debating this question in her mind, when her heart almost flew into her mouth at the sound of a man’s step approaching on the gravel walk.  It drew nearer, nearer, came close to her side, and with a cry of terror she fell in a little heap on the doorstep in a dead faint.

He uttered a low exclamation of astonishment, stooped over her, and pushing aside her veil so that the moonlight shone full upon her face, “Zoe!” he said, “is it possible!  What can have brought you here at this hour of the night?”

He paused for an answer, but none came; then bending lower and perceiving that she was quite unconscious, also fast, he took a key from his pocket and opened the door.

He bent over her again, taking note of her dress and the travelling bag by her side.

“Running away, evidently! could any one have conceived the possibility of her doing so crazy a thing!” he muttered, as he took her in his arms.

Then a dark thought crossed his mind, but he put it determinately from him.

“No; I will not, cannot think it!  She is pure, guileless, and innocent as an infant.”

He stooped again, picked up the bag, closed the door softly, and carried her up-stairs—­treading with caution lest a stumble or the sound of his footsteps should arouse some one and lead to the discovery of what was going on; yet with as great celerity as consistent with that caution, fearing consciousness might return too soon for the preservation of the secrecy he desired.

But it did not; she was still insensible when he laid her down on a couch in her boudoir.

He took off her hat and veil, threw them aside, loosened her dress, opened a window to give her air, then went into the dressing-room for the night lamp usually kept burning there.

As he turned it up, his eye fell upon Zoe’s note.

He knew her handwriting instantly.

“Here is the explanation,” was the thought that flashed into his mind, and snatching it up, he tore open the envelope, held the card near the light and read what her fingers had traced scarcely an hour ago.