Celine Leroque suppressed a cry of astonishment as she anticipated his ring and ushered him in. A very blonde man, with the lower half of his face covered with a mass of yellow waving beard; pale blue, searching, unfathomable eyes; pale yellow hair; a handsome face, the face she had seen pictured in Claire's souvenir! Celine Leroque led the way toward the little parlor with a heart beating rapidly. "Miss Arthur is in the grounds," she said, in answer to his inquiry. "I will go look for her;" and she turned away. Mr. Percy placed his hat upon a little table and tossing back his fair hair, said: "I think I can see her now." Approaching the window he looked down upon the terrace. Celine looked, too, and catching a gleam of crimson, said: "That is not Miss Arthur." "Stop a moment, my girl," the man exclaimed. He was gazing down at Cora, who was walking away from them, with a puzzled look. "Good God!" he ejaculated, as she turned and he saw her face. He checked himself, and withdrawing hastily from the window, took up his hat as if about to depart. Approaching the window once again, he looked cautiously forth, and seeing Cora still pacing the terrace in evident unconcern, he muttered to himself, but quite audibly, "Thank goodness, she did not see me." Then turning to Celine: "Girl, who is that woman?" The girl approached the window: "That, monsieur, is Madame Cora Arthur." "A widow, eh?" "Oh, no, monsieur. Mr. Arthur is the master of Oakley." "Oh! and madame--how long has she been his wife?" "She is still a bride, monsieur." "Still a bride, is she? How exceedingly pleasant." Mr. Percy had evidently recovered from his panic. "Was she a miss when she married the master of Oakley?" "Oh, no, monsieur; a widow." "Widow?" stroking his whiskers caressingly. "What name?" "Madame Torrance, monsieur." "Madame Torrance, eh? Well, my good girl, take this," offering a bank note. "I really thought that Madame Torrance, I mean Arthur, was an old friend; however, it seems I was mistaken. Now, my girl, go and tell that lady that a gentleman desires to see her, and do not announce me to Miss Arthur yet. May I depend upon you?" glancing at her keenly. "You may, monsieur." Taking the offered money, she made an obeisance, and withdrew. The little parlor had but one means of egress--through the door by which Mr. Percy had entered. This door was near the angle of the room; so near that, as it swung inward, it almost grazed against a huge high-backed chair, stiff and grim, but reckoned among the elegant pieces of furniture that are always, or nearly always, uncomfortable. This chair occupied the angle, and behind its capacious back was comfortable room for one or two persons, should they fancy occupying a position so secluded. The act of opening the door completely screened this chair from the view of any person not directly opposite it, until such time as the door should be again closed.