The sun's last ray had faded from the highest hill-top. The little birds had folded their wings and hushed their warblings. Dark clouds came sweeping up from the west, and one, heavy and black, passed above the roof of Oakley, bent down, and rested there. Hagar, still sorrowing in the doorway, saw and interpreted. Dark days to come to the master of that overshadowed house. Dreary days and bitter nights--ah, how many, before that cloud should be lifted from over it, or light hearts beat beneath its roof. "I beg pardon, madame, you appear in trouble; perhaps I intrude?" It was Lucian Davlin's soft, lazy voice, and that disagreeable half smile lurked about the corners of his eyes and mouth. "I've had more welcome visitors," said the old woman, with more truth than politeness, and rubbing her eyes with the corner of her apron, "what do you want?" "Only a small matter of information, which I believe you can give me." "Well," said Hagar, testily. "I want to make a few inquiries about Mr. Arthur of Oakley." "About Miss Madeline, I suppose you mean. I won't tell you a word--" "My dear, good woman, I don't ask nor wish any information regarding that young lady--my inquiries solely concern the father. He is said to be wealthy!" "What is John Arthur or his money to you?" she questioned, eying him with much disfavor. "Nothing whatever," he indifferently replied. "I merely inquire on behalf of a friend." "I'll throw him off the scent if he does mean Madeline," thought the old woman. "Well, Mr. whatever your name is, if it will satisfy your friend to know that Mr. John Arthur is master of Oakley, and everybody knows there's no finer property in the State, and that he has a yearly income of ten thousand or more, why, tell him or her so. And you may as well say, at the same time, that he is too stingy and mean to keep the one in repair, or spend decently the other. And when he dies"--here she suddenly checked herself--"well, when he dies, his heirs, whoever they may be, will inherit all the more because of his meanness." "And who, pray, may be his heirs?" "How should I know who a stingy old reprobate will choose to inherit after him? I think he has a sister somewhere, but I don't know." "H'm, thank you--for my friend. Good-night." Smiling that same Mephistophelian smile, Lucian Davlin sauntered away, apparently satisfied with himself and what was passing in his mind. "He'll do," he muttered; "and she'll do him. It will be a good thing for her, just now, and very convenient for me into the bargain. Cora's a marvellously fine woman, but little Madeline is fresh as a rose, and a few months of the city will make her sharp enough. Only let me keep them apart; that's all." Satisfaction beamed in his eye and smiled on his lip. "Pretty Madeline will be the envy of half the boulevard." Now he has neared the trysting tree. "I think I'll just smoke here, and wait for my pretty bird; this is the place and almost the time."