Madame, withdrawn into the shade of a screen, stood panting hysterically. “It is evaire so. He come by morning and by noon--thus, hurrying not at all, but watchful, watchful from the blinkers of his eyes. Why am I so hated and pursued? Is he agent of M. de Liancourt, do you think? Ah! but it is worthy of a runagate so to war on a woman.” She squealed out in a sudden nerve-panic to hear her companion laugh. He ran to the door of the room. “Faith!” he cried jovially, “I’m in the way to resolve this riddle at least,” and he pulled at the handle and vanished. She cried after him to come back--not to leave her alone--that she would lose her reason were anything to happen to him. His descending heels clattered an only reply. Then at a thought she ran to the window and peeped from the covert of curtains. The stranger was wheeled about at the moment and returning as he had come. She saw Mr Sheridan run forth bareheaded, accost, and seize him by both of his hands. He seemed to return the greeting; he---- Madame the countess sank into a chair, as mentally paralysed as though the end were upon her. Her chevalier was conducting the spy to the door of the house. CHAPTER III. A much-stricken young gentleman--very undeservedly released from the onus of a social embarrassment for which he was alone responsible--stood gravely bowing before the lady of the house. His face was quite white. “I am vastly pleased,” said Mr Sheridan, “to be the means of presenting to madame the Countess of Genlis a neighbour, the Lord Viscount Murk. I have the honour of a slight acquaintance with his lordship. I was even more intimate with his predecessor in the title. But at least I can disabuse madame’s mind----” Madame, who up to the moment had seemed half-amort, rose hurriedly all at once and swept her stranger a magnificent courtsey. “I feel already that I have known monsieur for years,” she said, hard winter in her voice. Mr Sheridan burst out laughing. “Come, come,” he cried, “a mistake isn’t malice. There was never one yet that sinned against nature. Zounds, madame, when the respite arrives, we bear no grudge against the executioner! I can vouch for my lord that he had no thought of offending.” Ned looked enormously amazed. “None whatever,” he said. “Why should I, when I have not even the honour of madame’s acquaintance?” This was certainly ambiguous. Mr Sheridan laughed again like a very groundling. “Without affront,” said he, “let me ask your lordship a question. Why have you haunted madame, who is plaguily afeared of ghosts?” “Haunted!” exclaimed Ned. “Haunted,” replied the other. “Or is it, perhaps, one of madame’s sacred charges that is the object of your visitations?” Madame de Genlis, who included in her _répertoire_ of accomplishments the art of reading character, here, after gazing intently at the young man a few moments, permitted herself an immediate relaxation from severity to the most charming indulgence.