As they passed the villa they caught a glimpse of an old woman bent nearly double with age, hobbling into the house from the vine-covered porch. She was leaning upon the arm of a slender, graceful figure, who seemed to be clad in deep mourning, the sight of which made Isabel Coolidge’s heart bound again with a sudden fear, and she bent forward for a better view. She could not distinguish the person clearly, for the shadow of the vines about the door made it impossible, but a nameless dread of something, she knew not what, pursued her the entire evening, which neither the gay company at the Hall nor her lover’s fondest words could make her forget. CHAPTER XXI “CHICKENS COME HOME TO ROOST!” The next day cards were received at Vallingham Hall for the family and all guests, soliciting their presence at a grand state dinner, to be given by his lordship, the Earl of Dunforth, at his country residence at East Malling, about five miles from the west village. A great deal of excitement prevailed in anticipation of this event, for all recognized the honor conferred by this invitation, as the earl occupied a high position in the world, and owned almost the whole township of East Malling, where Dunforth Castle was situated. “What shall I wear, mamma?” Isabel asked, when they were talking over the event in their own room. “That light blue velvet, with the pipings of white satin, and the stomacher of pearls, which came from Worth’s last week, will be the most suitable, I think,” returned Mrs. Coolidge, reflectively. “That is the one I had in mind. It will be very becoming and with those coral ornaments, and a few flowers, it will be a very lovely costume,” assented the dutiful daughter. “I want you to look uncommonly well, Isabel, for I heard to-day that any one who is received by the Earl of Dunforth needs no better voucher in the first circles of London. Besides, he is a relative of the family, and it will be wise for you to secure their favor. By the way, has Sir Charles asked you to name the day yet?” “No, and I’ve played my very prettiest to him this week, hoping he would. I’ve visited all those dirty cottages and hovels, and helped him plan a hundred disagreeable things for suffering humanity around us; but, apparently, he is so bound up in the woes of others that he cannot stop to consider things of such minor importance as his own happiness,” replied Isabel, with bitter scorn, and with an ugly frown upon her brow. “You must have patience, my dear. A great deal has been accomplished in his proposing to you, and in your acknowledged engagement.” “Patience! I feel as if I should go wild, at times, with the constant restraint which I put upon myself.”