He was morbidly fearful, too, lest that bad strain, as he considered it, should some day break out in her, and prompt her to a course of conduct which might bring discredit upon his name. All that could be done in the way of conventional training, carefully supervised reading, and a closely watched and guarded existence, he had resorted to in her training. So far he could complain of nothing in Stella’s conduct, except indeed, the scornful curl of her lip and flashing of her dark eyes when he indulged in any fresh act of petty domestic tyranny. All that man could do to wipe out the disgraceful mistake of his first marriage he had already done. Not only had he chosen for second wife a duke’s daughter and a Douglas, but he had brought up his daughter Stella, the descendant of a long line of wild gypsy Carewes, in the belief that she also was a Douglas by descent, and that the Duke of Lanark’s daughter was her mother. The excellent understanding which prevailed between Lady Cranstoun and her supposed daughter, so far from pleasing, annoyed and irritated him. The feeling he inspired in his wife was one of absolute terror. To a woman of Lady Cranstoun’s weak and delicate health, the very sound of her husband’s voice was painful. In his presence she was conscious of a guilty and apologetic feeling. He had wished for an heir to keep the estates among his children, and she had failed to give him one; he had never loved her, and now he wished her dead. Stella’s high spirit and determined will seemed a shield between her and her husband’s displeasure, and the two ladies formed a party in the house tacitly opposed to him, although forced to a show of obedience and resignation. As to the servants at the Chase, there were three women besides Margaret and the lady’s maid, a butler and two footmen. Not one, except Margaret, had been in the house more than two years, and Margaret, the most discreet and silent of women, was retained chiefly because she was able to explain their business to the newcomers, and because of her notable expertness with her needle and as a sick-nurse. But in a household staff of eight, Sir Philip had seldom much difficulty in filling one post, that of spy. A quiet-mannered housemaid named Dakin, noiseless and freckled, and white about the eyelashes, was at present entrusted with the task of acquainting her master, by letter, telegram, or word of mouth, concerning all the details of home life at the Chase, and it was this person who had lit the fire in the bedroom apportioned to Hilary, and who had subsequently listened at the keyhole to scraps of the conversation between the patient and his friend. The result of her observation she decided to transmit at once to her master, and during dinner she asked and obtained leave of absence from housekeeper Margaret and hurried down toward the lodge gates, close to which an inn and a few cottages were clustered about the small post and telegraph office of the nearest village.