Marion's dark eyes were lifted. There were purple rings under those eyes and a hunted expression on the white face. It was the face of one who has seen a terror that it is impossible to forget. "Am I not?" she said indifferently. "Perhaps so." "Don't you like that woman?" Vera asked. "Frankly, I don't," Marion admitted. "But there are reasons. Strange that you don't recognize the likeness between us. Geoffrey did at once." Vera started. Strange, indeed, that she had not noticed it before. And, now that Marion had spoken the likeness was surprising. Making allowance for the disparity of years, the two faces were the same. "Is there another mystery?" Vera asked. Marion smiled like her old self. "Indeed there is," she confessed. "But it is a poor, vulgar little thing beside your family mystery. Mrs. May is a connection of mine. As a matter of fact, she is closely related to my mother's family. She is not a good woman, and I hope you will see as little of her as possible." "But I suppose she came to see you?" "Oh! dear no. She would never have done that. She knows perfectly well that I should strongly oppose her coming here. Beyond question, her taking up her residence for the benefit of her health in this village was simply a coincidence." Vera looked closely at the visitor. "Mrs. May doesn't look like an invalid," she said. "She doesn't. It is her heart. Any sudden excitement might be fatal to her. Is it not strange that I have the seeds of the same complaint?" "You, Marion? I never heard that before. And you are here!" "Oh, yes, I am here. A bad place for heart troubles, you would say. But I am young and strong. I merely made the remark--perhaps it would have been better had I not said anything about it." Mrs. May was talking. She protested gently against the trouble she was causing. Indeed, there was no reason why she should not have gone back to her farm. Still, her kind friends were so very pressing she would stay the night. But she must be up and away early in the morning. She had pressing business, tiresome law business, to see to in York. "And now I am not going to keep you up any longer," she said with a brilliant smile. "Who will help me upstairs? Will you, dear?" She had risen to her feet and approached Marion. The girl seemed to shrink back; it looked as if she was being dragged into some painful undertaking. Then the natural sweetness of her disposition conquered her dislike. "If you think I can manage it," she said. Mrs. May hobbled upstairs, leaning on Marion's shoulder, chatting gaily. The latter helped her into the room set apart for the involuntary guest and at a sign closed the door. All her smiles and pretty feminine blandishments vanished; her eyes were dark and hard; her manner was cold and stinging. "You fool," hissed Mrs. May. "This is a nice thing you have done!" Marion smiled wearily. She seemed to have suddenly fallen under the mantle of years. She dropped into a chair like somebody old and weary.