“The Crosbies, of Crosbie Castle!” The words rung in Margery’s ears. In an instant she remembered where she had met this man before. She saw once again the hot, dusty lane, the lodgekeeper’s wife, the strange man who had questioned her so curiously and spoken the terrible words that blighted her young heart, and she knew that Sir Douglas Gerant and that man were one and the same. She stood silent, almost overcome by the conflicting feelings within her breast, and was scarcely conscious that the earl led her downstairs, and she was driving home. CHAPTER XXIV. That she possessed some strange magnetic influence over Sir Douglas Gerant, Margery did not doubt, but what it was she could not tell; it seemed so vague, so mysterious, and yet her heart was filled with great and unfathomable emotions. What had she in common with Sir Douglas Gerant? Why should he gaze at her so eagerly? She sat very quiet in her carriage, yet every nerve was thrilling. The earl noticed her manner, but attributed it to the sympathy she felt for the sick man. He regretted now that he had taken her to see his old friend, but Sir Douglas had seemed quite convalescent in the morning, and he had thought the visit might do him good. On reaching her room, Margery let her husband remove her heavy mantle and her cap without a word; then as he stood looking undecided beside her, she turned to him. “Please go back to him. I am all right, and I should like to know how he is now.” “Are you sure you are better, darling? You were quite frightened.” “Yes, yes! Go; perhaps you may be of some service.” The earl stooped and kissed her, and was soon rattling away in a hansom, while she sat silently thinking and wondering over what had occurred. Lord Court found Sir Douglas restored to consciousness, but too weak to utter a word. Already there was a great alteration in the worn face, and the sick man’s eyes, as they wandered with a restless eagerness round the room, struck the earl with sudden sadness. “I’ve sent down to the castle,” said Murray, who was watching his beloved master; “and I’ve also sent to Mr. Stuart’s club. He may be in London; if so, he’ll come as quickly as he can. I hope he is, for Sir Douglas would like to see him, I know. Many and many a time I’ve wanted to let Mr. Stuart know, but he wouldn’t let me; he was always thinking he’d be better in a day or two, and was longing to be off. He has fretted so through his illness, my lord, it has quite worn him out.” “Have you sent for the doctors?” asked the earl. “They’ve just gone, my lord. They didn’t say much. ‘Give him a teaspoonful of brandy every half hour,’ they said; and I know what that means, my lord.” “How wasted he is,” thought the earl--“how changed! I wish he could speak; he looks as if he wished to say something.”