“It was during your first swoon, lady, when Mr. Castello first brought you in, and at his command.”
“Very well, Suzanne; but now I command you to bring back the traveling dress I wore when I came. I wish to resume it.”
She had feared a refusal, but to her surprise and relief the maid consented with alacrity and deftly assisted her to change her robe. She even brought Violet’s hat and placed it carefully on her golden hair.
“Now you are ready for your second journey,” she said.
A quiver passed over the beautiful form, and Violet cried:
“Does that man mean to take me away from here to-night?”
“No, my lady, I am going to rescue you,” breathed Suzanne, in a low and thrilling voice that startled Violet by its altered tone. She threw out her white hand and clutched the woman’s arm, sobbing, hysterically:
“Oh, Heaven, can this be true? Are you indeed my friend, or,” suspiciously, “is this a treacherous plan to lead me into some new danger?”
“Not so loud, dear lady, lest some one overhear us,” breathed the maid. “Sit down one moment and let me explain as rapidly as I can, for we must be gone from this house ere Harold Castello returns.”
While Violet gazed at her in blended hope and fear she went on, in a low, intense voice: