"Mamma, why do you cry?" the little one said, looking up into the sad, silent face. Her mother did not speak. Was the coming shadow already hovering over her? She drew her daughter the more closely to her; and the little girl, thrown back on her usual resource for expressing her alarm, only murmured disconsolately, "Oh, Nu, Nu, I don’t know what to do." CHAPTER III. THE MARCHIONESS. Of what befel Lord Knottingley in England—of the influences brought to bear on him, of the acquaintances and relatives who counselled him (if he did receive any counsel but from his own inclination)—his wife never knew anything. Week after week passed, and she heard nothing from England. Again and again she wrote: there was no answer. But at length there arrived at Thun his lordship’s man of business, Mr. Chetwynd, who brought with him all the news for which she had sought. She was seated at the window overlooking the lake, oppressed and almost terrified by the strange shadows which the sunset was weaving among the mountains opposite. The sun had so far sunk that only the peaks of the splendid hills burned like tongues of fire; and in the deep valleys on the eastern side the thick purple darkness was giving birth to a cold grey mist which crept along in nebulous masses like the progress of a great army. Down at the opposite shore the mist got bluer and denser; and over all the lake the faint haze dulled the sombre glow caught from the lurid red above. Up there, high over the mountains, there were other mountains and valleys; and, as she looked, she thought she saw an angel, with streaming violet hair which floated away eastward, and he held to his mouth a trumpet, white as silver, which almost touched the peak of the Wetterhorn; and then the long, flowing robes of scarlet and gold became an island, with a fringe of yellow light that dazzled her sad eyes. When she turned rapidly to see that a servant had brought her a letter, the same cloud-visions danced before her, pictured in flames upon the darkness of the room. "Will it please your ladyship to see Mr. Chetwynd this evening or to-morrow morning?" the servant inquired. "Did Mr. Chetwynd bring this letter?" she asked, hurriedly. "Yes, your ladyship," said the man. "Tell him I will see him this evening—by-and-by—in half an hour." Standing there, with a faint pink light streaming in upon the paper, she read these words: