“Dunbar.”
With a glad thrill in her heart, Violet hid the precious letter away in her bosom, and just in time; for at that moment the old woman appeared with quite a tempting breakfast arranged upon a waiter. She placed it upon the table, and after a quick, suspicious glance around the narrow room, disappeared once more.
When Violet heard the key turn in the lock, she went over to the table, and taking the cup of coffee from the waiter, emptied its contents into the empty grate which occupied a corner of the room. The food she hid away under the fender, where it would not be seen; and having disposed of the contents of the waiter, she went over to the iron cot, and lay down as though to sleep.
Hours passed. The day slowly declined; the sun set and night came down; still Violet lay there quite silent. Several times during the day she had heard the door open softly, and some one glanced into the room. She understood. They were watching to see if the drug which had been placed in her food had taken effect. They meant to stupefy her so that she would be pliant as wax in the hands of Warrington.
The hours rolled slowly by. Eight o’clock struck. Then the door of the cell opened once more, and Gilbert Warrington entered.
CHAPTER XXXII.
WHAT CAME NEXT.
Violet shrunk back with an involuntary cry at sight of the man whom she hated, and who had come to her now to lead her forth to that hateful farce of a marriage, from the very thought of which her soul shrunk back appalled. Only the recollection of Dunbar’s promise to help her kept Violet’s heart alive within her breast. He had enjoined upon her to show outward obedience to Gilbert Warrington, and to do as he directed her; to even go through the farce of a marriage, if necessary, but to trust to Dunbar to rescue her, even at the last moment. And so, although the girl was half insane with horror over the peculiar and terrible position in which she was placed, she had made up her mind to follow Dunbar’s directions, no matter what the effort might cost her. In fact, it seemed the only resource—all that was left to her to do.
As for Gilbert Warrington, he could only stand and gaze with wonder at the girl whom he had fully expected to find under the influence of the drug which he had caused Mrs. Carter to drop into the food and drink prepared for her. He had entered the cell expecting to see the poor girl lying upon her bed, half dazed and wholly helpless—in his power, at his mercy. But there she stood before him, pale and calm, outwardly brave, her large dark eyes fixed upon his hated face with a look in their depths which made his bad heart quail. But he recovered his self-control and moved swiftly toward her.