"Good-by, Aunt Helena," she said wistfully. "Good-by, Sir Roger.
Nothing that they can bring against me will shake your faith in me, I
know. You will both come to see me often, I hope, and bring me news of
poor Victor. Should--I mean _when_ he recovers--don't tell him of
this--don't, I beg. It can do no good--it may do him harm. Good-by
once more--give my love to Uncle Godfrey. Aunt Helena, don't distress
yourself so; I cannot bear it."

"Do you think I will let you go alone? No, I will go with you to the
prison, if these besotted wretches persist in sending you there. But
oh, there _must_ be some mistake--it is too atrocious. Sir Roger,
can't you do something? Great Heaven! the idea of Inez Catheron being
lodged in Chesholm jail like a common felon!"

"Sir Roger can do nothing," Inez answered; "the law must take its
course. Let us end this painful scene--let us go at once." She
shuddered in spite of herself. "The sooner it is over the better."

She shook hands again with Sir Roger. A cab was at the door--the old
baronet handed the ladies in, and stood bare-headed, until they were
driven out of sight. They reached the square, gloomy, black building
called Chesholm jail, standing in the center of a gloomy, paved
quadrangle. Miss Catheron was shown to a room. The jailer had once
been a servant in the Powyss family, and he pledged himself now to
make Miss Inez as comfortable as was admissible under the
circumstances.

Once in the dreary room, with the heavy door closed and locked, Lady
Helena suddenly fell down on the stone floor before her niece and held