It was for this celebration that Lady Dunfern arrayed herself in the gorgeous gown of purest duchesse satin, which bore such a train of past remembrances. Why its puffs of pearly wealth surrounded her well-formed figure on the celebration of her marriage with him who long ago should have claimed its shining folds, may be considered mysterious. But in this, as well as in many other instances, the busy brain of Marjory Mason was prime mover. During Lady Dunfern's confinement in the mansion over which she unjustly was appointed mistress, Sir John Dunfern, never suspecting the maid of her on whom he was driven to lavish correction, appointed Marjory mistress of her ladyship's wardrobe, and it was during her term of office that she stole from its midst the box containing the beautiful Parisian outfit which failed to put in an appearance on Lady Dunfern's previous wedding-day. This Marjory kept, until safe in the shady cot of comfort which encompassed within its wooden walls the trio of adventure. Lady Dunfern resolved that this gown should be kept a prisoner until either worn with a face of happiness and prided ambition or never worn at all. On entering the church on the morning of her marriage with Oscar, how every eye was turned towards the beautiful woman whose radiant smile gained the hearts of each and all of its occupants. There she stood before the holy altar with calm resolution and undaunted fear, and her elegant bearing and manner throughout the trying ceremony were thoroughly appreciated by the assembly. Oscar bore slight traces of nervousness throughout the oratorical ordeal, and was rejoiced indeed as he turned to leave the scene of such outbursts of praise, taking with him her who was to be his coveted partner for life; her, whose footsteps he so often worshipped in days gone by; her, who entered into treaty legally with a man she never could learn to love; her, whom he now claimed as his own, and for whom he stumbled over many an awkward and winding stile, until at last his footsteps had reached the path of level tread, on which he hoped to travel until his journey would be ended to that distant land where strife is a stranger. CHAPTER XV. The wealthy, the haughty, the noble must alike taste of disappointment. They court ideas whilst surrounded with bountiful store to be fostered and fed with heaven-bordered hopes which nothing save denial could thwart. The meek, the humble, the poor share equally in its visitation, and learn not to frown at its unwelcome intrusion while they bear the load of blighted hopes with unshrinking modesty. At Dunfern Mansion matters seemed at a standstill, since that Christmas Day which began with such sunshine and ended with such misery. Energy had fled from the able-bodied staff of servants who occupied its rooms of plentiful repast. Each and all of them seemed as if death had entered their midst and snapped from amongst them their sole support.