Now she was draped in somber black, her aspect changed as by an enchanter’s wand. Her spiritual beauty did not suffer, it is true. She looked, if possible, more lovely thus shrouded; but--but still, Lady Quaintree wished that the news had not involved donning signs of mourning, and thought that people had no business to dictate terms of love and marriage from the grave. “An unlucky omen!” she thought, gathering up her violet skirts and embroidered jupons. CHAPTER V. A TRIPLE BONDAGE. Lady Quaintree had hoped to glean a little more information from the two gentlemen, for she was as much excited as if she herself had been the inheritrix of the eccentric old man’s money. But she was disappointed. Scarcely had she returned to the principal drawing-room, when five or six guests arrived, and from that moment people came pouring into the salons until there was a well-bred, well-dressed throng. Lois did not wait to be sent for. She came in with a quiet, calm dignity of manner, the color a shade deeper on her cheeks, and a feverish glitter in her eyes, but otherwise self-possessed, as usual. Her marked change of costume attracted universal attention, and many inquiries were made. Lady Quaintree had the supreme felicity of being able to diffuse the information just received through a dozen different channels, whereby she was sure it would permeate to society in general. “I should not have permitted her to appear had this been a dancing-party,” she explained. “But it is so quiet, and I am unable to manage without her. “She is quite like a daughter to me,” she went on, thoroughly believing her own enthusiastic speeches, and feeling a maternal pride swell her bosom. A tear or so lightly brushed away by her lace handkerchief would have added to the effect, but tears come and go at will, not at the command of those who would summon or dismiss them. Miss Turquand sat so tranquil in appearance, and bore the masked battery of curious eyes so calmly, that some people who listened with amazement were indignant. Lady Quaintree’s companion did not seem conscious that anything unusual had happened. Two or three times she glanced through the veil of silken lashes which fringed her translucent gray eyes at Captain Desfrayne, but it was a glance swift as lightning, not betraying the most transient glimpse of the strange, mingled feelings of resentment and lively interest aroused in her heart by the claim made upon her in behalf of the handsome young officer. Captain Desfrayne carefully avoided looking at his beautiful charge. He seemed to be profoundly indifferent on the subject of Mr. Vere Gardiner’s whims and fancies, and neither approached Miss Turquand nor evinced the slightest desire to become acquainted with her. Frank Amberley and Lady Quaintree thought this strange, but neither showed that they were in any way conscious of Captain Desfrayne’s cold indifference toward the young girl.