“Then watch her,” said the doctor.  “I trust you and Sally to do that.  I know nothing about her; but don’t you let her play me false.  It is of the greatest importance to me that the insane girl upstairs does not escape—­and escape she will if she can.  She will try to bribe the nurse—­do you watch the nurse.  It will only be for a week at furthest.”

“I am glad to hear it,” said his mother, spitefully.  “I don’t like my house full of mad-women and mad-women’s nurses, and I don’t like playing the spy!”

“It will only be for a week,” the doctor repeated.  “I will never trouble you in this way again.  And now I must be off at once.  I want to sleep in New York to-night.”

Without further parley Dr. Oleander stalked out of the kitchen and out of the house.  Five minutes more, and they heard the sharp rattle of his wheels on the gravel.  Then old Peter bolted and locked and put up the chains, and made the lonely farmhouse as much like a jail as bolts and bars could render it.  Their situation was so isolated, and they themselves so helpless, that, although there was but little to fear, these precautionary measures were natural enough.

Meantime, the new nurse had ascended the stairs and unlocked her captive’s door.  She rapped respectfully before entering; but, as usual, Mollie deigned no notice, and after waiting an instant, she turned the handle and went in.

Mollie had resumed her seat by the window, and, with her chin resting on her hand, was gazing with gloomy eyes at the evening mists rising over the bleak gray sea.

Much weeping had dulled the luster of those sparkling eyes and paled the bright bloom of the once rounded cheeks.

The Christmas snows were not whiter nor colder than the girl who sat there and stared in blank despair at the wide sea.

“I beg your pardon, miss,” said Mrs. Susan Sharpe, halting in the door-way; “I want to come in.”

At the sound of the strange voice, the prisoner wheeled suddenly around and confronted her.

“Come in, then,” she said:  and Mrs. Sharpe came slowly in and closed the door.  “Who are you?” Mollie asked, transfixing her with her steadfast gaze.  “I never saw you before.”

“No, miss; I only came from New York to-day.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Susan Sharpe.”

“And what are you doing here?”

“I’m to be your nurse, miss.  Doctor Oleander hired me and brought me down.”

“Doctor Oleander is a villain, and you are, I suspect, his tool.”

“I’m sorry you think so, miss,” Mrs. Susan Sharpe said, composedly.  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

But Mollie did not reply.  She was staring at her new attendant with all her might.

“Who are you?” she said, breathlessly.  “Surely someone I know.”

The woman smiled.

“No one you know, miss—­unless you have the advantage of me.  I don’t suppose you ever heard my name before.”