Year: 1865

exclaimed Lady Courthope.


"'Tis by the old priory-a matter


Of three miles round, maybe; but Sil


Richard knows it WELL"


"And Marston had forgotten it,


said her mistress, musingly.


He said nothing of the ford,


Hester answered; "he only said thai


he was going to ride after Sir Rich,


ard"


He has not como back?" Lady


Courthope asked abruptly.


! go no, my lady; he told us that il


he did not meet Sir Richard, he should


stay at the Golden Horn till morning u


:" gave him no such leave;" and


there was surprise and resentment in


Lady Courthope's tone. A long silence


followed, while the maid moved softly


to and fro, assisting her mistress to


undress, till, as she brought the taffeta


droeeing gown and velvet slippers,


Lady Courthope said kindly:


That will do; 1 can brush my own
hair for this night. Now go, and
sleep off your headache"


The maid fingered while, but at
a second bidding she withdrew, thank
full TO be released. Lady Courthope
followed to secure the door; then re-
turning, she drew an arm chair close
to the fire, and began to unfasten her
shining braids of hair. With her
fingers moving dreamily among the
golden tresses, as they fell around her
lovely face, she sat thinking of many
things; she thought Of her husband,
the husband who seemed yet closer to
her heart for that very difference of
age which had made many marvel at
the marriage; she thought Of his
tender indulgence towards her faults,
of his almost fatherly care, of the
manly respect and trust with which
he treated her-of the perfect conf
dence which he, the man of forty five,
showed to the wife more than twenty
years younger than himself. And
then she pictured the coming years,
and the time when his hair should be
white, and his now upright figure
bent, and when she in turn should
show her love and gratitude by her
unwearied care-when she should
forestall his every wish, and make his
declining age SO happy, that he should
never regret his youth and when too
land her cheek flushed at the thought
young children, bearing in their
faces mingled likeness to them both,
might perchance be about them, make
the house, SO quiet now, ring with
laughter from morning till night and
as that picture rose before her, she
yearned to lay her head upon her
husbands breast, and whisper it to
him.


1t was so strange to be here, far
from him. If she could but leave
this lonely, silent room, and mount
her horse and gallop through the
darkness to that inn at Chester. That
vague dread was coming back to her
again. The fire was dying down, and
the room seemed darker and cold
chill crept over her frame. The dread
grew. The ivory brush upon her knee
slid down, and fell with dull heavy
sound upon the floor; she stopped
hastily to reach it, but as she raised
her face, all yelled by her long droop-
ing hair, she saw, away by the window
in the furthcst corner Of the room, q
bony hand grasping the damask cur
tain, and a white eager face peering
from behind it, intently watching her.
One instant and tho curtain tell to
again softly, silently, and that face
was gone. But she had seen it, and
she knew it. Not six hours ago, that
same look Of hatred and revenge had
been turned upon her, and with q
sickening heart she recognized the
fierce eyes, the lowering brows, and
knew at last what that look meant
She did not start or cry. Her pulses
throbbed wildly, her very blood. was
chilled but she sat on calmly, quietly; |
she had trembled at tho bare thought
of peril to her husband, but now in
her own fearful danger she was brave
and steadfast. Her icy hands still
busy with her bright hair, her eyes
were bent vacantly uron the dying
embers, and there was no outward
sign of the tumult within; and yet
she knew and understood all. Mars
ton was there close by her. His night
journey had been but feint to hide
his deadly purpose and to screen him
self. He had stolen back in the dark
ness, and hidden himself there to wait
for her, and-murder her, Here alone
in this locked room, how could she
escape him? If she fled, if she could
even gain the gallery outside, it would |
avail her little. Long, long before
she could pass those deserted rooms,
before her voice could summon any to
her aid, he would be upon her, his
fingers upon her throat. And then
there came across her strange mem-
ory Of how one summer she had seen
him standing on tho terrace tw listing
in his hands pieco of rope-how he
had wound it round and round until
tho strained fingers were stiff and
rigid, and how then his iron fingers
had been bent for one more effort, and
when the last turn was given, the rope |
was left hanging idly on his arm. A
strange thing to recall at such time
as this, stranger still that she should
almost shudder in recalling it. What,
if rising from her chair, she were to
go straight to that window, and draw
ing back the curtain. confront him
there, and in her husbands, in his
masters name, were 10 appeal to him
for pityp All, no; that name from
her lips would but inhame his jeal-
ousy and hate. She raised her eyes,
and they rested on something bright |
and glittering, something which just
then almost seemed q friend for there
above the chimney piece. within reach
of her hand, hung her husbands
rapier. She might seize it, and, with
one wild dash, stab her enemy ere he