What were the precise antecedents of this girl, Miss Carlyon, who had been recommended to her by her friend, the vicar, in London? thought Lady Fettercairn, as her cold, passive, and aristocratic frame of mind resumed its sway. Yet, though she remained silent on the subject, and disdained to inquire further about it, that miniature interested her deeply, and frequently at table and elsewhere Dulcie caught her eyes resting on the locket. It filled her with a distinct and haunting memory of one seen long ago, and not in dreams, for Lady Fettercairn was not of an imaginative turn of mind. It may seem strange that amid all this Dulcie never thought of mentioning that Florian was the cousin of Shafto; but she knew how distasteful to Lady Fettercairn was anyone connected with the family of Lennard's dead wife, Flora MacIan. When Shafto heard of all this, as he did somehow, the qualms of alarm he experienced on seeing first Madelon Galbraith and then Dulcie at Craigengowan were renewed; and he resolved, if he could, to get possession of that locket, and deface or destroy the dangerous likeness it contained. But Dulcie had an intuitive perception or suspicion of this; and finding that his evil gaze rested upon it repeatedly, after a time she ceased to wear it, but locked it away in a secure place, from whence she could draw it when she chose for her own private delectation. When Finella, in mutual confidence, told Dulcie of the manner in which Shafto had brought about a separation between herself and Vivian Hammersley, the girl expressed her indignation, but no surprise. She knew all he was capable of doing, and related the two ugly episodes of the locket. 'Heavens!' exclaimed Finella; 'if Lord Fettercairn knew of this business he would surely expel him from Craigengowan.' 'No, no; the person expelled would to a certainty be poor me--an expulsion that Lady Fettercairn would endorse to the full on learning that Shafto had sought to make love to me. Then I should again be more than ever homeless; so let us be silent, dear Finella.' 'Do you ever ride, Dulcie?' asked the latter. 'How can I ride now? In papa's time I had a beautiful little Welsh cob, on which I used to scamper about the shady lanes and breezy moors in Devonshire. I can see still in fancy his dear little head, high withers, and short joints.' 'You shall ride with me,' said Finella, in her pretty, imperative way. 'I have three pads of my own.' 'But I have no habit.' 'Then you shall wear one of mine. I have several. A blue or green one will be most becoming to you; and though you are as plump as a little English partridge, I have one that will be sure to fit you.' 'Thanks. Oh, how kind you are.' 'Now, let us go to the stables. I go there once every day to feed "Fern," as you shall see.'