"I think he is not likely to see the paper," replied Miss Boyle. She picked up the copy of the _Gazette_ and thrust it into her bag. "Farewell again, and thank you--oh, thank you, Susannah!" They kissed again in the dusk that each was secretly so grateful for. "Is your carriage below, dear?" "It is waiting. Do not come down." They parted; the door closed on the slight beauty of Selina Boyle, and Susannah crossed at once to the fireplace and pulled the bell-rope. Then she sank into a chair and pushed the fair locks back from her brow, and stared desperately into the twilight. She felt her cheeks becoming pale and her blood turning cold. A bitter exclamation left her lips, she beat her foot in anger at her own weakness, and when the servant entered rose and turned her back to the room. One by one the delicate candle flames sprang from the taper and a soft light illumined the pale rich chamber. "A letter, madam," said the servant. "For me?" "No; for Captain Lyndwood, madam." Miss Chressham gave a careless glance at the letter he placed on the mantelshelf. "In half an hour I shall have a message to be taken to Lyndwood House." "Yes, madam." She was alone again, with the curtains shutting out the blue summer evening. She bit her lip and clenched her hands in her effort at control, then pulled open a drawer in the buhl cabinet and commenced to write to the Earl. But words that would be sufficiently strong yet sufficiently cautious, phrases that should command yet appear careless were not easy to find, nor did her agitation allow her to search for the niceties of composition. She flung down the pen and rose. As she paced distractedly across the room her eye was caught by the letter on the marble mantelshelf. It was in the Countess Lavinia's hand. Susannah stood still a second, then returned to the desk and sat down heavily. The moment after, Marius entered. He noticed the untouched tea-table and his cousin's face as she turned to look at him. "Is there anything the matter?" he asked, pausing inside the door. "No," said Susannah, "no. There is a letter for you--from Lady Lyndwood." She marked the treacherous blood fly to his face and saw him turn from her gaze. "What does the Countess write to you about?" she asked. Marius picked up the letter. "How can I know," he answered, "before I have opened it?" His dark eyes challenged hers with a look at once defiant and pleading; the even pallor of her face did not change, nor did she lower her glance as he tore open the envelope. "A ticket for Grafton's mask to-morrow," he said, throwing it on a chair; the letter enclosing it he thrust back into the envelope carelessly. "There was no need to obtain that from her," answered Susannah wearily and coldly. "I shall not go," said Marius; "unless I might escort you there." She faintly smiled. "Did my lady send two tickets? No, I do not wish to go, Marius." "Why will you not?" he demanded. "My lady will be going--and Rose, I doubt not."