They repaired to the rotunda, and Mrs. Murray beckoned to Edna to follow her. As they entered her apartment she carefully closed the door. "Edna, when did Mrs. Powell arrive?" "Last night." "Did you see her?" "Yes, ma'am." "Is she very pretty?" "She is the most beautiful woman I ever met." "How did Mr. Hammond receive her?" "Her visit evidently annoys him, but he gave me no explanation of the matter, which I confess puzzles me. I should suppose her society would cheer and interest him." "Oh, pooh! Talk of what you understand. She surely has not come here to live?" "I think he fears she has. She is very poor." Mrs. Murray set her teeth together and muttered something which her companion did not understand. "Edna, is she handsomer than Estelle?" "Infinitely handsomer, I think. Indeed, they are so totally unlike it would be impossible to compare them. Your niece is very fine-looking, very commanding; Mrs. Powell is beautiful." "But she is no longer young. She has a grown daughter." "True; but in looking at her you do not realize it. Did you never see her?" "No; and I trust I never may! I am astonished that Mr. Hammond can endure the sight of her. You say he has told you nothing about her?" "Nothing which explains the chagrin her presence seems to cause." "He is very wise. But, Edna, avoid her society as much as possible. She is doubtless very fascinating; but I do not like what I have heard of her, and prefer that you should have little conversation or intercourse with her. On the whole, you might as well stay at home now; it is very warm, and you can study without Mr. Hammond's assistance." "You do not mean that my visits must cease altogether?" "Oh! no; go occasionally--once or twice a week--but certainly not every day, as formerly. And, Edna, be careful not to mention that woman's name again; I dislike her exceedingly." The orphan longed to ask for an explanation, but was too proud to solicit confidence so studiously withheld. Mrs. Murray leaned back in her large rocking-chair and fell into a reverie. Edna waited patiently for some time, and finally rose. "Mrs. Murray, have you anything more to say to me tonight? You look very much fatigued!" "Nothing, I believe. Good-night, child. Send Hagar to me." Edna went back to her desk and resolutely turned to her work; for it was one of the peculiar traits of her character that she could at will fasten her thoughts upon whatever subject she desired to master. All irrelevant ideas were sternly banished until such season as she chose to give them audience; and to-night she tore her mind from the events of the day, and diligently toiled among the fragments of Scandinavian lore for the missing links in her mythologic chain. Now and then peals of laughter from the billiard-room startled her; and more than once Mr. Murray's clear, cold voice rose above the subdued chatter of Estelle and Clinton.