And so saying Claudia arose and made an elegant morning toilet; for Claudia, like Mary Stuart, would have "dressed" had she been a lifelong, hopeless captive. When her toilet was made she directed Sally to bring her a cup of strong coffee; and when she had drunk it she sat down to wait with what patience she could for the awakening of old Katie. Poor Claudia, with all her faults, was kind to her dependents and considerate of their comforts. And so, anxious as she was to hear the communication old Katie had to make to her, she was resolved not to have the old woman's rest broken. She sat by the window of her dressing room, looking out upon the boundless sea from which the sun was rising, and over which a solitary sail was passing. She sat there until the breakfast bell rang. And then she went below. She was the first in the breakfast room, and she remained there standing before the fire full ten minutes before anyone else appeared. Lord Vincent was the next to come in. And Claudia actually started when she saw the awful pallor of his face. Every vestige of color had fled from it; his brow, cheeks, and even lips were marble white; his voice shook in saying "good-morning," and his hand shook in lifting the "Banff Beacon" from the table. While Claudia was watching him in wonder and amazement, there came a flutter and a rustle, and Mrs. Dugald entered the room all brightness and smiles. She gave one quick, wistful glance at the viscount, and then addressed him in a hurried, anxious tone, speaking in the Italian language and saying: "Rouse yourself! Look not so like an assassin. You will bring suspicion!" "Hush!" answered the viscount, with a quick glance towards Claudia, which warned La Faustina that the American lady might be supposed to understand Italian. Claudia did understand it, and was filled with a vague sense of horror and amazement. They sat down to the table. Lord Vincent followed Mrs. Dugald's advice and tried to "rouse" himself. And after he had two or three cups of coffee he succeeded. Faustina was as bright as a paroquet and as gay as a lark. She prattled on in a perpetual, purling stream of music. Among other things she said: "And do we go to see Mr. and Mrs. Dean in 'Macbeth' tonight, mon ami?" "Yes; and Lady Vincent goes with us," answered Lord Vincent emphatically. "I beg your pardon, my lord. I have already declined to do so," said Claudia, speaking with forced coolness, though her heart was burning, her cheeks flaming, and her eyes flashing with indignation. "You will think better of it, my lady. You will go. Cuthbert, pass the eggs." "I shall not, my lord," replied Claudia. "Why will you not? Pepper, Cuthbert." "For the reason that I gave you last night. Your lordship cannot wish me to repeat it here." "Oh, a very particular reason you gave me! The salt, Cuthbert," said his lordship, coolly breaking the shell of his egg.