France. As Uncle Silas had directed, I wrote to Cousin Monica from
London. I know madame asked me what I would do for her if she took me to
Lady Knollys. I was inwardly startled, but refused, seeing before me
only a tempter and betrayer; and together we ended our journey, driving
from the station through the dark and starless night to find ourselves
at last in Mr. Charke's room at Bartram-Haugh.

There were bailiffs in the house, I was told. I was locked in. I
entreated madame wildly, piteously, to save me; but she mocked me in my
agony. I escaped for a brief moment, and sought my uncle. I can never
forget the look he fixed on me.

"What is the meaning of this? Why is she here?" he asked, in a stern,
icy tone. "You were always odd, niece. I begin to believe you are
insane. There's no evil intended you, by--, there is none! Go to your
room, and don't vex me, there's a good girl!"

I went upstairs with madame, like a somnambulist. She was to leave me to
sleep alone that night. I had lost the talismanic pin I always stuck in
the bolster of my bed. Uncle Silas sent up spiced claret in a little
silver flagon. Madame abstractedly drank it off, and threw herself on my
bed. I believed she was feigning sleep only, and really watching me; but
now I think the claret was drugged.

About an hour afterwards I heard them digging in the courtyard. Like a
thunder-bolt it smote my brain. "They are making my grave!"

After the first dreadful stun, I grew wild, running up and down wringing
my hands, and gasping prayers to heaven. Then a dreadful calm stole over
me.