CHAPTER XXIII.
AH! THE PITY OF IT!
The oaken door clanged heavily to, and the massive bolt, as it shot into place, sounded in Dainty's ears like the trump of doom, shutting her into a living grave; for now that she had heard of her husband's condition, she had no longer the least hope of rescue.
In all the wide, cruel world, who was there that had any interest in poor Dainty Chase save her husband and her mother?
Her husband was dying, and her poor, helpless little mother was powerless to save her.
They would tell her that her fair daughter had eloped with a favorite lover; and how was she to know that the story was untrue?
In her desire to spare her gentle little mother pain, Dainty had withheld the whole story of the persecutions she had suffered at Ellsworth.
In every letter home she had written the substance of these words:
"It is very pleasant here, and I am very happy. I long for you to be with me."