Here, seeing a rustic seat under one of the shadiest trees, I sat down, and my mind gradually steadied itself.  Why, I inwardly asked, had I been so suddenly and forcibly brought into this place for no apparent reason save to look upon Rafel Santoris in the company of another woman whom it seemed that he now preferred to me?  Ought that to make any difference in my love for him?  “In love, if love be love, if love be ours, Faith and unfaith can ne’er be equal powers, Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all.”  If the happiness of the one I loved was obtained through other means than mine, ought I to grudge it?  And yet!—­my heart was full of a sick heaviness,—­it seemed to me that I had lately been the possessor of an inestimable joy which had been ruthlessly snatched from me.  Still meditating in solitary sadness, I sat in the soft gloom wondering at the strange chance that had brought me into such a place, and, curiously enough, never thinking that the whole adventure might be the result of a pre-ordained design.

Presently, hearing slow footsteps approaching, I looked up and saw an aged man walking towards me, accompanied by a woman of gentle and matronly appearance who supported him on her arm.  The looks of both these personages were kindly, and inspired confidence at a glance,—­ and I watched them coming with a kind of hope that perhaps they might explain my present dilemma.  I was particularly attracted by the venerable and benevolent aspect of the man—­and as he drew near, seeing that he evidently intended to speak to me, I rose from my seat, and made a step or two forward to meet him.  He inclined his head courteously, and smiled upon me with a grave and compassionate air.

“I am very glad,”—­he said, in a friendly tone—­“that we have not come too late.  We feared—­did we not?” here he looked to his companion for confirmation of his words—­“that you might have been hopelessly ensnared and victimised before we could come to the rescue.”

“Alas, yes!” said the woman, in accents of deep pity; “And that would have been terrible indeed!”

I stared at them both, utterly bewildered.  They spoke of rescue,—­ rescue from what?  ‘Hopelessly ensnared and victimised.’  What did they mean?  Since I had seen Rafel Santoris with another woman he called ’beloved’—­I had felt almost incapable of speech—­but now I found my voice suddenly.

“I do not understand you”—­I said, as clearly and firmly as I could--"I am here by my own desire, and I am not being ensnared or victimised.  Why should I need rescue?”

The old man shook his head compassionately.

“Poor child!” he said—­“Are you not a prisoner in the House of Aselzion?”

“With my own consent,”—­I answered.

He lifted his hands in a kind of appealing astonishment, and the woman smiled sadly.