“We have already been absent nearly twenty minutes,” she said, consulting her tiny watch. “I wished to arrange your toilet before I told you what is really in this will. Perhaps you think I treat you as a child; but you are already agitated, and when you know the eccentric nature of the conditions, you will, probably, be much startled. Pray read it, my dear.” Lois did so, with changing color and flashing eyes. When she finished, she threw the paper upon the table, and, rising from her chair, walked to and fro, as if under the influence of uncontrollable emotion. Then she abruptly paused before Lady Quaintree, extending her hands as if in protest. “Why should this person,” she exclaimed, “of whom I never heard--of whom I knew nothing till this hour--why should this stranger have left me all this money, and why bind me with such conditions? I feel as if I could not, ought not, to accept the gift he has given me. He must have been a lunatic!” “Softly, softly, softly, my dearest! You are talking at random.” “How can I face that man again?--he must know, of course,” Lois continued vehemently, referring to Paul Desfrayne. “We shall see more clearly after a while, Lois. Certainly, I am surprised by this affair; but perhaps my nephew, Amberley, may be able to enlighten us a little more. Come, let us go down. They will wonder if I, at least, keep them waiting much longer.” “No--no, dear Lady Quaintree. I cannot go now. I feel as if I must shrink into the earth rather than meet them again,” said Lois, recoiling as Lady Quaintree offered her hand. “Nonsense! I did not think my quiet, soft-spoken Lois was made of such silly stuff.” “Dear Lady Quaintree, I really _cannot_ go now. Perhaps, when the rooms are full of people, and I can hope to escape observation, I may venture.” “Will you faithfully promise to come when I send for you--or, at least, in half an hour?” “Yes--yes, dear madam.” Lady Quaintree was obliged to be satisfied. In her secret heart she was sorry for the conditions which so horrified her young friend. For a vast change had taken place in her plans since she had heard her nephew tell his news. What she had dreaded and feared hitherto she would now gladly see accomplished; but here were difficulties, apparently insurmountable, placed in her way. As she paused for a moment on the threshold, she glanced at the statuesque figure of Lois. A curious, superstitious feeling crept over her, and a thrill of painful presentiment passed through her heart. The young girl had entered the room only some twenty or thirty minutes before, arrayed like some glittering creature of light, sparkling with diamonds, placed, by desire of Lady Quaintree, among the gauzy folds of her semitransparent robes to represent drops of water, her superb, sun-bright hair floating like a halo of glory about her, radiant as a spirit.