"And to marry St. Udo? Heigh, ho! my old lover. Is he much enamored with you? Inconstant wretch! he might have run up to Hautville, if it was only to taunt me with my cruelty in jilting him. I don't seem to have got on much better for having been so obedient to papa; positively I am without a matrimonial expectation; without even an _attache_, except my snip of a cousin Harry, who cant marry anybody until his uncle Henry and three sons die. The Duke of Piermont has gone back to Ireland, and is supposed to be either mad or writing a book. My own opinion is, that he has fallen in love with some stock-jobber's daughter, or nameless orphan, and that his family have interfered, to prevent a shameful _mesalliance_." My lady glanced spitefully at Margaret's inflexible face, but failed to read it. The door was opened while she was examining her shallow reservoirs for more gossip, and the two executors were announced just as the pompous hall-clock struck seven. "You are punctual, sirs," said the lady of the castle, pressing each hand gratefully in her feverish fingers; "let me present you to a friend, whose name is well known to you: Lady Juliana Ducie." My lady bowed to each condescendingly and sank to her cushions again with raised eyebrows. The executors looked at each other and at their ward, also with raised eyebrows. "You shall see my meaning in a few minutes," she breathed, passing the lawyer. "Is London very gay just now, my lady?" asked the physician, understanding the face of affairs at a glance, and good-naturedly taking up his cue. My lady, never at a loss for small talk, instantly plunged into an ocean of that diluted composition, and the minutes sped on. At half-past seven, punctual to the second, came an imperative ring at the great door. Margaret started up with a quivering face, murmured, "Excuse me," and glided out to conceal the terrible agitation of her features. She took refuge in an ante-room and summoned the housekeeper. "Show Colonel Brand in here instead of the reception-room," she said, "and stay with me while I speak to him." "To act sheep-dog?" asked Chetwode, venturing on a pleasantry. "Yes," shuddered the girl; "one can never depend on a wolf." The colonel was accordingly ushered in, and the housekeeper, knitting in hand, took her seat at a distance, as if prepared for a long interview. "How shall I get back my composure?" thought Margaret. "I dare not face Lady Juliana until I am calm, else she would jump at this man's name." "I have come in answer to a kind invitation from Miss Walsingham," said the man, approaching her with an insolent bravado of manner. "Yes, I have work for you to-night." "For or against my cause, fair lady? I decline to stand in my own light." His evil eyes were fastened tauntingly upon her; his hand was toying with the breast of his coat. "St. Udo Brand should fear nothing," mocked Margaret. His eyeballs quivered and fell; the veins grew black upon his brow.