"Hilda, you have had a long and trying day; perhaps you would like to retire early?" Together they walked along the terrace, and Lady Remington took Hilda's arm, and personally conducted her to her room. There the two women talked awhile. The elderly lady, so soon to be a "Dowager," and the young American girl who was to hand down the traditions of the ancient family, and, perchance, become the mother of the future heir to the estate. Lady Remington spoke very kindly, but there was a sad note throughout. She told of her anxiety until they had met. She expressed, ungrudgingly, how Hilda's manner had charmed her from the moment of their meeting. She alluded to the great responsibility she was undertaking. They talked for long, and at length, Lady Remington affectionately bade her good-night, and Hilda was left in privacy to her thoughts and sleep, if it would come. A maid tapped discreetly at the door, and offered her services. Hilda's needs were very slight that night, and she was glad when she had dismissed the maid. Attired in a loose dressing-gown she sat in a chair and wondered whether all could possibly be as well as it appeared. Her reverie lasted long. How long she did not know. Rousing herself she made preparation for sleep. Impulse prompted her to have a final look at the fine night and beautiful scene. To view those lovely gardens that were to be hers with Raife. As she approached the window, a slip of paper appeared underneath the door which opened on to a balcony. She started, but Hilda was not the type of girl to scream or become panic-stricken. She opened the paper and read a typewritten message on a plain piece of paper: "It is dangerous to rob another." What did it mean? Rob another of what? Was it her fancy that the paper had just been placed there, or had it lain there a long time? Perhaps it was a text, or something of that kind. If so, it was harmless and was, perhaps, a crazy fad of some one who had occupied the room before. She studied the fastenings of the window and went to bed without looking at the night as she intended. Then she thought of "the other woman" Raife had told her about. She decided to say nothing about it, as it might make her appear foolish. It was long before sleep overtook her, but her youthful nature asserted itself and she, being very tired, at length slept. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. RAIFE'S JEALOUSY ENDS DISASTROUSLY. They were happy days at Aldborough Park.