CHAPTER I. KATHERINE.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 405, 25 September 1889, Page 3

CHAPTER I. KATHERINE.

The large, loud-voiced clock over the sfcables struck nine, and announced to all whom it might concern that the breakfast hour of Sir John Dangerfield, Baronet, of Scarswood Park, Sussex, had arrived. Scarswood Park ! A glorious uld place, lying deep down in the green heart of a Sussex woodland ! A glorious old place, where the rare red deer disported amid the emerald glades, and dusky, leafy isles of the oak and beech ! A vast and stately park, sloping down to the tawny seashore, and a vast and stately mansion, its echoing turrets rising high above the towering oak and copper beeches, and its eastern windows sparkling in the red sunlight of this bright September morning like sparks of fire ! Within and without the great house was very still ; a breakfast-table, sparkling with crystal, rich with rough old silver, gay with tall glasses of September roses, and snowy with napery, stood ready and waiting in a spacious room. Through the open windows the sweeb, hay-scented morning wind blew, and far off you caught in the summer stillness the soft wash of the waves on the yellow sands, more than a mile away. At the last chime of the loud-voiced clock the door opened, and Sir John Dangerfield came into the room. A silvertoned French time-pieco on the marble mantel began a tinkling waltz, preparatory to repeating the hour ; the birds, in their gilded cages, sang blithely their welcome ; but the baronet glanced impatiently round in search of something or somebody else. ' Not down yet,' he said. ' That's not like Katherine ! She is not u&ed to dissipation, and I suppose last night's concert has made her lazy this morning. Thomas,' to a footman, appearing like a tall plush spectre in the doorway — 'tell Miss Katherine'e maid that I am waiting breakfast. Has the " Times '' arrived ?' ' Yes, Sir John. 5 Thomas presented the folded Thunderer to his master, and vanished. - Sir John Dangerfield flung himself ..into an easy chair, that groaned in every joint with his three hundred pounds of manhood, and opened the damp London paper, perfuming the room with the smell of printers' ink. He was a tall, portly gentleman this Sussex baronet, with a handsome, florid face, and an upright, military bearing. For three months only had he reigned master of Scarswood ; three lives had stood between him and the baronetcy, and, a colonel in the Honorable East India Company's Service, he had, four months before this sunny September morning, about as much idea of ever lording it in Scarswood Hall as he had of ever sitting on the throne | of England. Suddenly, as if a fatality were at work, these three lives had been removed, and Colonel Dangerfield, of Her Majesty's H.E.I.C.S, became Sir John Dangerfield, of Scarswood t Park, and with his daughter and heiress, came back to England for the first time in fifteen years. He was a widower, and Miss Dangerfield, his daughter, his heiress, his idol, had been born in England, and was two years old when her father had first gone out to India, and grown to be nearly seventeen before she ever set foot upon English soil again. He unfolded his paper, but he did not read. The loud singing of the birds, the dazzling brightness of the summer morning disturbed him, perhaps. It dropped on his knee, and his eyes turned on the emerald lawn, on. the tangled depths of fern and bracken, on the dark expanse of waving woodland — terrace, lawn, and coppice, all bathed in the glorious golden light. 'A fair prospect,' he said — 'a princely inheritance • And to think that four months ago I was grilling alive in CalcutLa, with no earthly hope but that of retiring one day from the Company's service with chronic liver complaint, and a colonel's half-pay. For myself it would not matter ; but for Katherine !' His face changed suddenly. 'If I only could be certain she were dead ! If I only could be certain my secret was buried wiLh her ! It nover mattered before— we were out of her reach ; but since my accession to Scarswood, since my return to England, that wretch's memory has haunted me like an evil spirit. Only last night I dreamed of her — dreamed I saw her evil black eyes gleaming UDon me in this room, Paugh !' A shudder of disgust — a look of abhorrence ; then he lifted the paper again — and again he dropped it. A door far above closed with a bang ; a fresh young voice caroling like a bird ; the quick patter, patter, patter, of little female feet downstairs — the last three cleared with a jump ; and then bhe door of the breakfast room was flung: wide, and the heiress of Scarswood Park flashed into the room. Mashed' — I use the word advisedly — flashed in like a burst of sunshine — like a hillside breeze — and stood before her father in fluttering white muslin, pink ribbons waving, brown hair flying, grey eyes dancing, and her fresh, sweet voice ringing through the room. ' Good morning, papa !' Miss Dangerfield cried, panting, and out of breach. *Is breakfast ready? I'm perfectly famished, and would have starved to death in bed if Ninon had not come and routed me out. And how is your appetite, papa ? and I hope I have not kept you waiting too long — and, oh ! wasn't the concert perfectly de — licious last night! 5 And then two white arms went impetuously around the neck of the Indian officer, and two fresh rosy lips gave him a kiss that exploded like a torpedo. Sir John disengaged himself laughingly from this impulsive embrace. ' Gently, gently, Kathie ! don'fc quite garrote me with those long arms oi yours. Stand off and let me see how you look after last night's dissipation. A perfect wreck, I'll be bound.' ' Dissipation ! A perfect wreck ! Oh, papa,_ifc was heavenly -just chat ! I shall never forget that tenor singer — who sang Fortunio's song, you know, papa, with his splended eyes, and the face of a Greek god. And his name — Gaston Dantree — beautiful as himself. Don't talk to me of dissipation and a wreck ; I mean to go again to-night, and to-morrow night, and all the to-mor-row nights while the concerts are given by the Tal^ots.' She stood before him, gesticulating rapidly, with golden morning light pouring full on het face. • And Miss KatherinejDangerfield, heiress and heroine, was beautiful, you say, as an heiress and heroine should be ? lam sorry to say No. The young ladies of the neighbourhood, otherwise English misses with pink and white complexions, and perfeebjnanners, would have told you Kathe-

vine Dangerfleld was laqky and overgrown, had sunburnt hands and complexion, too small a nose, and too larsre a mouth and chin. Would have told you her forehead was low, her complexion sallow, and her manners perfectly horrible. She was boisterous, she was a hoyden, she said whatever came uppermost in her mind, was utterly spoiled by a doting father, and had the | temper of a very termagant. They would probably havo forgotten to mention —those young ladies — that the sallow complexion was lit by a pair of loveliest dark-grey eyes, that the tall, supple figure of the girl of seventeen gave rare promise of stately and majestic womanhood, that the ever ready smile, which parted the rosy lips, displayed a set of teeth flashing like jewels. They would have forgotten to mention the wouderful fall of bright brown hair, dark in the shadow, red gold in the lisrht, . and the sweet freshness of a voice so silvertoned that all who heard it paused to listen. Not handsome — you would never havecalled her that — but bright, bright and blithe as the summer sunshine itself. ' Well, papa, and how do I look ? Not very much uglier than usual, I hope. Oh, papa,' the girl cried, suddenly, clasping her hands, ' why, why, why wasn't I born handsome ? I adore beauty — pictures, music, sunshine, flowers, and — handsome men. I hate women — 1 hate girls — vain, malicious magpies — spiteful and'spiritlcss. Why don't 1 look like you, papa, — you handsome splendid old soldier. Why was T born with a yellow skin, an angular ligure and more arms and hands than I ever know what to do with ? Whom do 1 take after to be so ugly, papa? Not after you, that's clear. Then it must be after mamma ?' Miss Dangerfield had danced over to the great mirror on the mantel, and stood gazing discontentedly at her own image in the glass. Sir John, in his sunny window-seat, had been listening with an indulgent smile, folding his crackling paper. The crackline suddenly ceased at his daughter's last words, the smile died wholly away. ' Say, papa,' Katherinecried, impatiently, 'do I look like mamma ? I never saw her, you know, nor her picture, nor anything. It I do, you couldn't have been over and above particular during the period of love's young dream. Do I inherit my tawny complexion, and square chin, and snub nose, and low forehead from the late Mrs Colonel Dangerfield ?' Her father laid down his paper, and arose. ' Come to breakfast, Katharine,' he said, more coldly than he had ever spoken to her before in his life, ' and bo kind enough to drop the subject. Your flippant manner of speaking of -of your mother, is positively shocking. lam afraid it is true what they say of you here —lndian nurse? — the lack of a mother's care — and my indulgence, have spoiled you. 1 ' Very well, papa ; then the fault's yours and you shouldn't blame vie. The what's-his-name cannot change his spots, and I can't change my irreverent nature any more than 1 can my looks. But really and truly, papa, do i look like mamma ?' 'No — yes — I don't know.' ' No — yes —I don't know. Intelligible, perhaps, but not at all satisfactory. When / am left a widow, I hope I shall remember how the dear departed partner of my existence looked even after thirteen years. Have you no portrait of mamma, then ?' ' No ' In Heaven's name, Katherine, eat your breakfast, and let me eat mine V 1 I am eating my breakfast,' responded his daughter, testily. ' I suppose a per&on can talk and eat ao the same time. Haven't you rather got a pain in your temper this morning, papa ? And I must I say think it a little too hard that I can't be told who I take my ugliness from. I'm much obliged to them for the inheritance, whoever they were.' Sir John again laid dewn his paper with a resigned sigh. He knew of old how useless it was to try and stem the torrent of his daughter's eloquence. ' What nonsense you talk, my dear,' he said. ' You're not ugly— you don't want your father to pay you compliments, do you, Katheiine? I thought your cousin Peter paid you enough last night to satisfy even your vanity for a month.' Katherine shook her head impatiently until all its red-brown tresses flashed again. 'Peter Dangerfield — wretched little bore ! Yes, he paid me compliments with his hideous little weasen face close to my ear until 1 told him for goodne&s' sake to hold his tongue, and not drive me frantic with his idiotic remarks ! He let me alone after that, and sulked ! I teli you what it is, papa — if something is not done to prevent him. that little grinning imbecile will be asking me to marry him one of these days — mark my w ords !' 'Very well — suppose he does?' The baronet leaned back in his chair and raised his paper nervously before his face. ' Suppose he does, Kathie — what then ?' ' What then !' The young lady could but just repeat the words in her amaze and indignation. ' What then ! Sir John Dangerfield — do you mean to insult me, sir? Put down that paper this instant, and look the person you're talking to full in the face, and repeat " what then," it you dare !' ' Well, Kathie,' the baronet said, still fidgeting with his paper screen and not looking his little commanding officer in the face, ' Peter's not hand&ome, I know, nor da&hing, but he's a clever little fellow, and my nephew, and in love with you, and will make you a much better husband, my dear, than a much bettor-looking man. Handsome men are always vain as peacocks, and so deeply in love with themselves that they never have room in their conceited hearts and empty heads to love anyone else. Don't be romantic, my dear — you'll not find heroes anywhere now except in Mudie's novels.- Peter's a clever little fellow, as I said, and over head and ears in love with you. ' ' A clever little fellow ! A clever little fellow,' repeated Miss Dangerfield, with intense concentrated scorn. 'Papa,' with dignity, ' a few minutes ago you told me to change the subject. I make the same remark now. I wouldn't marry your clever little fellow not to save my own head from the gallows or his soul from perdition, Sir John, I considor myself doubly insulted this morning ! I don't wonder you sit there excruciating my nerves with chat I horrid rattling paper and ashamed to look me in the face. I think you have reason to be ashamed ! Telling your only child and heiress she couldn't do better than throw herself away on a pitiful little country lawyer, only five feet high, and with the countenance of a rat. If it were that adorable Gaston Dantree now. Oh, here's the post. Papa ! papa ! give me the key.' Miss Dangerfield, forgetting in a second the late outrage offered her by her cruel parent, seized the key, unlocked the bag, and plunged in after its contents. ' One — two — tbree— -four ! two for me from India— one for you from ditto, in Major Trevanion's big slap-dash fist, and this— why, papa, what lady correspondent can you have in Paris ? What an elegant Italian hand ! what thick yellow perfumed paper, and what a sentimental seal and mofcto ! Blue wax and " vensez a moi. " Now papa, who can this be from ?' She threw the letter across the table. With her first words the face of fche Indian officer had changed— a hunted look of absolute terror had come into his face.

His hands tightened over the paper, his eyes fixed themselves upon the dainty missive his daughter held before them, hia florid, healthtul colour faded — a dull greyish whiteness crept over hia face from brow to chin. * Papa !' Katherine cried, ' you're sick, you're going to have a fit ! Don't tell me ! can't I see it? Drink this—drink it this moment and come round !' She held a glass of water to his lips. He obeyed mechanically, and the colour that had faded and fled, slowly crept back to his bearded, sun-browned face. * There !' said Miss Dangerfield, in a satisfied tone, ' you have come round ! And now tell me, was it a lit, or was it the letter? Tell me the truth, sir ; don't prevaricate !' ' It was one of my old attack?, Kathie, nothing more. You ought to be used to them by this time. Nothing more, I give you my word. Go back to your breakfast, child,' he said testily, ' and don't stand staring there in that uncomfortable way !' { My opinion is, papa,' responded Miss Dangoi field, with gravity, ' that you're in a bad way and should turn your attention immediately irom the roast beef of old England to water gruel and weak tea. A fine old English gentleman ot your time of day, who has left his liver behind him in India, and who has a Sepoy bullet lodged for life in his lett lung, and a strong tendency to apoplexy besides, ought to mind what ho eats and drinks, and be on very friendly terms with the nearest clergyman. Aren't you going to read that letter, papa, and tell me who tho woman is who has the presumption to write to you without my knowledge? l>Tow where are you going?' For Sir John had aiisca hastily, his letters in his hand. 'To my study, Kathie. Finish your breakfast, darling, and don't mind me.' He stooped down suddenly and kissed her with almost passionate tenderness. 'My darling ! mv darling !' he said. ' Heaven bless and keep you always — whatever happens. ' He repeated die last words with a sort of anguish in his voice, then turned and walked out of the breakfast pai lour before his very much amazed daughter could speak. 'Well!' exclaimed .Miss Dangerfield at last, ' thi& does cap the universe, doesn't it?' This question, being addressed to vacancy, received no reply. ' There's a mystery here, and I don't like mysteries out ot sensation no»'el?. T have no secrets from papa whac business has papa to have secrets from me ?' • She aroso u ith an injured air, gave the bell a vicioua pull, and walked in offended dignity back to her room. The broad, black, slippery oaken staircase went up in majestic sweeps to the regions above. Miss Dungertield ascended it slowly, and with a face of perplexed thought. ' It was never an attack— don't tell me— it was that na->ty, vicious, spidery written little letter ! Now, what woman wrote that letter, and what business had she to write it? I shall insist, upon oapa giving me a full ■, explanation at dinner- time. No woman in Paris 01 any other wicked city shall badger my precious old into an early grave. And meantime I shall have a gallop on Ilderim over tho golden Sussex downs.' She entered her room singing the song the handsome tenor had sung at the concert the night before, the melody of whose silver voice, the dusky tire of whose eyes, the dark foreign beauty of whose face, had haunted hor romantic seventeen-year-old mind ever since. ' Rispondia a chi t' implora ! Rispondni a cara a me !' ' How handsome he was, how handsome — how handsome ' It over I marry, it shall be a man— a demi-god like that. ' Peter Dangerfield indeed ! Nasty little bore ! Still I would rather have him in love with me than have no one at all. I wonder if it is I myself he loves, or Scarswood Park, and the heiress of eight thousand a year. Ninon ! my green riding habit, and tell them to fetch Ilderim around. And oh, Ninon, my child, tell thai/ tiresome groom I don't want him pei ambulating behind me, like an apoplectic shadow. Ilderim and I can take care of ourtc \ c>.' ' But, raademoisolle — Seer John's orders — ' ' Ninon Duclos, will you do as / order you ? I won't have the groom — there ! I'm always shocking the \'esident gentry of this neighbourhood, and I mean to go on shocking them. I feel as if 1 had a spy at my heels while that beef-eating groom is there. Help mo on with my habit and say no more about it.' Little Ninon knew a good deal better than to dispute Miss Dangerfield's mood when Miss Dangerfield spoke in that tone. Miss Dangerfield had boxed her ears before now, and was very capable of doing it agiin. Perhaps, on the whole, smart little Ninon rather liked having her ears impetuously slapped by her impulsive young mistress, and the tingling cured, a.s it imariably was, by the present of Miss Ratherine's second-best silk dress half-an-hour after. Looking very bright and dashing, if not in the least pretty, the heiress of Scarswood Park ran lightly down the slippeiy stairs, out of the vast vaulted hall, where statues gleamed and suits of mail worn by deadand - gone Dangerfields centuries before, flashed back the sunshine. Her dark-green riding-habit fitted her, as Katherine herself said, 'as though .she had been born in ifc' — the waving brightness of her brown hair was twined in thick plaits around her graceful head, and her pork-pie hat with its scarlet birds-wing perched ever so little on one side, set off the piquante face beneath — a thoroughly English face despite the golden hue of a tropic sun. ' I beg your parding, miss,' Roberts, the butler, said, stepping forward. He was a dignified, elcleily, clerical-looking personage, liko an archbishop in silk stockings and knee breecbe* ; ' but if you will hexcuse the remark, miss I thinks a= 'ovv we're going to ' aye a storm. There's that closeness in the hah, miss, and that happearance in the hatmosphere that hahvays perceeds a thunder-storm ; if 1 might make so bold, miss, I should hadvise you not to stay oue more than a hour at the furthest.' ' Good gracious, Roberts, what nonsense ! There's not a cloud in the sky. Oh, well ! that one ! why it's no bigger than my hand. I'm going to Castleford, and I don't believe in your thunder-storms. 1 ' You'll catch it, though, for all that, my young lady,' soliloquised Mr Roberts, looking after theslight girlish figure as it dashed out of sight down the elm avenue mounted on a spirited black horse. ' Great storms 'aye come from clouds no bigger than a man's 'and before now. But you're a young persing that won't be hadvised, and you'll come to grief one of these days through 'aving too much of your own way, as sure as my name's Roberts.' i And then Mr Roberts philosophically dent back to the 'Castleford Chronicle,' and never dreamed that he had uttered a prophecy. Miss Dangerfield dashed away over the breezy Sussex downs— gold-green in the September sunshine. But the brilliance ol that sunlight grew dim and dimmer with every passing moment, and looking ur. presently she saw her 'cloud no bigger than a man's hand ' had spread and dark ened, and was fast glooming over the whole sky. Old Roberts had been right then, afteV all ; and unless she stayed ai Castleford, or turned back at once, she was in for a drenching ,

'I won't turn' back,; lhd I won't stop at Casbleford,' the baron'eVs daughter said, setting her white teeth,! jf. ' I'll get my books and I'll go home, andLjlderim and I shall outstrip the lightuing'ijter all.' She dashed into bhe| town. Castleford was a military depot, land knots of redcoated officers groupstt here and there, lowered their crests, apd gazed after her with admiring eyes as she flew by. • Plucky girl that,' said Captain Yore do Vere of the Plungers ' Purple to his friend Captain Howard of the Bobtails Blue. ' Gad ! how squarely she sits her saddle. And what a waltzer she is — as graceful as a Parisienne ballerina, and as springy. Comfortable thing there waiting for some lucky beggar — clear eight thousand a year, and strictly entailed. Not a handsome girl, 1 admit, but what would you?' Doosidly clover, too, and that's a drawback. I hato your clever women — put a fellow out of countenance, by Jovei! Shouldn't know anything — women shouldn't, beyond the three great feminine art?, dancing, dressing, and looking pretty.' With which terse summary of women duties the Honorable Plantagenet Vere de Vere lit his huge manilla and sauntered away. ' She seemed uncommonly sweet on that foreigner, that Creole ' fellow— what's his name— at the concert last night,' he thought. ' It-, always fellows like that with tenor voices and long eyelashes, that draw the matrimonial prizes. Heard hci tell Kdith Talbot last night all the officers at Castletord had ginger whiskers, and knew no more how to waltz than so many lively young elephants.' Miss Dantrevfield's errand was to a Castleford bookseller's and her Older was for all the newest novels. She came out' presently, followed by tho obsequious shopman carrying her parcel and bowing his thanks. The storm was very near now. The whole sky was dark — thoro was that oppressive heat and stillness in the air that usually precedes a thunder-storm. ' Coming i' Miss Dangerfield thought, vaulting into her saddle. ' Now then, Ilderim, my beauty, my darling, out&tiip the storm if you can !' She was oil' like the wind, and in a few minutes the town lay far behind her. But fate had decreed to take sides with Roberts. On the bare downs, treeless and housoless, the lightning leaped out like a two-edged sword. There came the booming ciash of thunder, then a deluge of rain, and the mid-day summer tempest was upon her in its might. The swift, sudden blaze ot the lightniner in his eyes started the nervous system of Ilderim. He tossed his little black Arabian head in the air with a snort of terror, made a bound forward and fled over the grassy plains with the speed of an express train. ' A runaway, by Jove !' A man darted forward with the cry upon his lips, and made the agile spring of a wild ca*; at Ilderim's bridle rein. A moment's struggle and then the spirited Arab stood still under the grasp ot an iron hand, quivering in every limb, and his mistress, looking down from her saddle, met full two of the most beautiful eyes into which it had ever been her good fortune to look It was JVlr Gascon Dantree, the handsome, silver - voiced tenor ot last night's concert, and a flash of glad surprise lit up her face. 'Mr Dantree !' she cried, ' you ! and in this tempest, and at so opportune a moment. How shall I thank yon for save — for rendering me such very timely assistance ?' 1 For saving my life ' she had been goin«j to say, but thafwould have been coming it a lictle too strong. Her lite had not been in the smallest danger—she was a thorough horsewoman, and could have managed a much wilder animal than Ilderim. But the knight to the rescue was Mr Dantree, and last night Miss Dangertield had looked for the first time into those wonderful eyes of gold-brown light and fallen straight in love with their owner. He was very handsome ; perfectly, faultlessly handsome ; with an olive complexion, a low forehead, a chiselled no«e, a thic>t black mustache, and two dark almond eyes, of 'liquid light.' Not tall, nor stout, not very manly-looking, perhaps, in any way, men were rather given to sneer atMr Gaston Dantree's somewhat efiemimite beauty. But they never sneered long. There was that in Mr Dantree's black eyes, in Mr Dantree's musical voice, in Mr Dantree'* trained muscles, that would have rendered a serious difficulty a little unpleasant. He took off his hat now, despite the pouring lain, and stood before the heiress of Scarswood, looking 'like Apollo himself in a shabby shooting jacket. ' You do me too much honour, Mi^s Dangerfield ; I don't really chink your life was in any d auger — still it's pleasant to know I was the one to stop your black bteed all the same Rather a coincidence, by the by, that I should meet you here just at present, as, taking advantage ot last night's kind invitation, I was about to present myself at Scars wood.' ' And Scare; wood is very well worth seeing, I assure you. As it is nob moie than a quarter of a mile to the gates, suppose you resume your hat and your journey ?' ' But, Miss Dangerfield, you will get your death at this pace in this downpour.' ' Oh, no, I'll not,' Katherine answered coolly. 'The rain will never fall that will give me my death ! You don't know how strong I am. Come, Mr Dantree, let me see if you can walk as fast as Ilderim.' She looked down at him with that brilliant smile that lit her dark face into something brighter than beaut t v. ' Come, Mr Dantree,' she repeated, ! let me be cicerone for once, and show you the splendours of Scarswood. It is the show pla^o of the neighbourhood, you know, built by a Dangertield, I am afraid to say how many centuries asro. We came over with Wiliiam, the wliat's-hi3-name, you know, or, perhaps, William found us here when he arrived ; I'm not positive which. We're a dreadfully oil family, indeed, and I'm the last daughter of the i-ace, and I wouldn't be anybody bnt Katherine Dangerfield, of Scarswood Park, for the world !' She danced under the huge stone arch of masonry as she spoke, half laughingly, wholly in earnest. She was proud of the old blood that flowed so spritely in her veins, of this noble mansion, of the princely inheritance which vas her birthright. ' Welcome to Scarswood, Mr Dantree,' she said, as he passed by her side under the Norman arch. He raised his hat 'Thank you, Miss Dangerfield,' he said gravely ; and so, still by her side, walked up the dripping elm avenue and into the house. His fatal beauby— fatal, though he was butpeven-and-twenfcy, to many women — had done its work once more. Her own hand had brought him there, her own voice had spoken her sentence. Gaston Dantree stood under the roof of Scarswood Hall, and until her dying hour, this day would stand out distinct from all other days in Katherine Dangerfield 's life. Sir John sab in his library alone, that letter from Paris still crushed in his hand as though it had beon a serpent. It seemed a very harmless serpent at first sight ; it only contained these lines, written in an elegant flowing Italian chirography : t -tvr, r T . ' Paris, September 23. ri«iK^f AR SIR Joh n Dangerfield: How delightedly my pen writes toe title ! A baronet !

Who would have thought it? , And Scarswood Park is yours, and your income is clear eight thousand a year. Who could have hppod it? And you're back m England, and la petite— the little Katherine. Darling little Katherine ! So full of spirit and self-will, as she was when I saw hor last, and that is fifteen years ago. Ah, mon dieu ! fifteen weary, weary year 1 ?, My dear baronet, I am coming to see you: I know you will be enchanted. On the third of October you will send your carriage to Oasfcleford Station to meet the 7.20 London express and me. And your servant will aak for Mrs Vavasor. I adapt my name, as I do my conversation, to my company; and, among the aristocratic county families of Sussex, let me be aristocratic; too. Adieu, my baronet, for the pi-esent ; and allow me to subscribe myself by the old and, alas ! plebeian cognomen of Harriet Harman. 'P.S.— Tell my pot, Katherine, lam coming. Kiss the darling child for me.' He had sat for hours as he sab now, that letter crushed in his hand, a greyish pallor on his face, his eyes looking blankly out at the drifting rain, at the tossing, wind blown trees. The lightning leaped forth at intervals, the summer thunder broke over the roof, the summer rain beau on the glass. He neither saw nor heard ; he sat like a man stunned by a great and sudden blow. ' And I thought her dead,' he muttered once. ' I hoped she was dead. I thought, after fifteen years' silence, I was safe; and now — oh, God ! will the wicked wish never be granted ?' He sat there still as he had sab since he Icfb the breakfast table, when the door was flung wide, and Kabherine, dripping like a mermaid, stood before him. ' May I come in, papa, or have you fallen asleep ? Do you know it is two o'clock, and pas>b luncheon time, and that I have brought home a euest ?' It's Mr Dan tree, papa — you remember him, you know —and he wants to gee the house, and I want you to be civil to him. He's in the blue draw-ing-room ; and while I'm changing ray habit 1 wish you would go up and entertain him. Papa !' She broke oft suddenly, catching sight of his altered face. ' What ik the matter ? You look like your own ghost !' He rose up stillly, as if his limbs were cramped, crushing the letter still more tightly in his hand. He turned away from bhe window, so that his face was hidden from her, as he answered : * [ am a little cold. Who did you .say was waiting ? Oh, yes ; the singing man — (hiPton Dantree. By the by, Kathie, tell Harrison to prepare one of the iront chambeis for a — a lady — an old friend of mme — who i? corning to visit us. She will be here on the evening of the third of October next, and her namo is Mrs Vavasor.'