intending to reside in it herself. As for our food, we receive that from the Glaze."
"But this cannot continue."
"It must continue for a while."
"And then?"
"The future is not open to my eyes."
"Judith, that has taken place at length which I have been long expecting."
"What do you mean?"
"This miserable condition of affairs has reached its climax, and there has been a turn."
Judith sighed. "It has taken a turn, indeed."
"Now that Captain Coppinger has been brought to his senses, and he sees that your resolve is not to be shaken, and he releases you, or you have released yourself from the thraldom you have been in. I do not suppose the popular account of the matter is true, wholly."
"It is not at all true."
"That matters not. The fact remains that you are out of Pentyre Glaze and your own mistress. The snare is broken and you are delivered."
Again Judith sighed, and she shook her head despondingly.
"You are free," persisted Oliver, "just consider. You were hurried through a marriage when insensible, and when you came to consciousness you did what was the only thing you could do—you absolutely refused your signature that would validate what had taken place. That was conclusive. That ceremony was as worthless as this sea-foam that blows by. No court in the world would hold that you were bound by it. The consent, the free consent, of each party in such a convention is essential. As to your being at Pentyre, nothing against that can be alleged; Miss Trevisa was your aunt and constituted your guardian by your father. Your place was by her. To her you went when my father's house was no longer at your service through my return. At Pentyre you remained as long as Miss Trevisa was there. She went, and at once you left the house."
"You do not understand."
"Excuse me, I think I do. But no matter as to details. When your aunt went, you went also—as was proper under the circumstances. We have heard, I do
