It was in the very midst of these strangely confused musings that the doctor's servant announced to him the arrival of Lady Eleanor Darey. The old man looked around him on the miserable furniture, the damp, discolored walls, the patched and mended window-panes, and for a moment he could not imagine where he was; the repetition of the servant's announcement, however, cleared away the cloud from his faculties, and with a slight gesture of his hand he made a sign that she should be admitted. A momentary pause ensued, and he could hear his servant expressing a hope that her Ladyship might not catch cold, as the snow-drift was falling heavily, and the storm very severe. A delay of a few minutes was caused to remove her wet cloak. What a whole story did these two or three seconds reveal to old Hickman as he thought of that Lady Eleanor Darey of whose fastidious elegance the whole “West” was full, whose expensive habits and luxurious tastes had invested her with something like an Oriental reputation for magnificence,--of her coming on foot and alone, through storm and snow, to wait upon him! He listened eagerly; her footstep was on the stairs, and he heard a low sigh she gave, as, reaching the landing-place, she stood for a moment to recover breath. “Say Lady Eleanor Darey,” said she, unaware that her coming had been already telegraphed to the sick man's chamber. A faint complaining cry issued from the room as she spoke, and Lady Eleanor said: “Stay! Perhaps Dr. Hickman is too ill; if so, at another time. I 'll come this evening or to-morrow.” “My master is most impatient to see your Ladyship,” said the man. “He has talked of nothing else all the morning, and is always asking if it is nigh twelve o'clock.” Lady Eleanor nodded as if to concede her permission, and the servant entered the half-darkened room. A weak, murmuring sound of voices followed; and the servant returned, saying, in a cautious whisper, “He is awake, my Lady, and wishes to see your Ladyship now.” Lady Eleanor's heart beat loudly and painfully; many a sharp pang shot through it, as, with a strong effort to seem calm, she entered. CHAPTER XXV. A DARK CONSPIRACY Dr. Hickman was so little prepared for the favorable change in Lady Eleanor's appearance since he had last seen her, as almost to doubt that she was the same, and it was with a slight tremor of voice he said,-- “Is it age with me, my Lady, or altered health, that makes the difference, but you seem to me not what I remember you? You are fresher, pardon an old man's freedom, and I should say far handsomer too!” “Really, Mr. Hickman, you make me think my excursion well repaid by such flatteries,” said she, smiling pleasantly, and not sorry thus for a moment to say something that might relieve the awkward solemnity of the scene. “I hope sir, that this air, severe though it be, may prove as serviceable to yourself. Have you slept well?”