As she passed through the principal drawing-room on her way to the library, the Countess saw her brother-in-law walking towards the lake. It was a fine manly figure, in a loose morning costume that set off the broad shoulders and the stalwart limbs to perfection. How she had loved that man! How she had listened for his footsteps and trembled at his voice! She dared not think of the past; she would not think of it, she would crush it out of memory. She clenched her fair white hand as she made the vow, clenched it in an agony of resolve until her fingers pained her; and she went in unto her husband crushing out that forbidden, that cruel memory! “Well, my darling, have you seen the Indian?” said his lordship, when, the Countess entered the library. “I declare the fellow is as brown as a gipsy.” “I saw him from the window going towards the lake. There he is,” she said, looking in that direction, “returning now.” As she said so, Morris knocked at the door and entered with Lord Cornington’s card. He was walking in the picture gallery, and wished to see Lord Verner on particular business. “I will come to him at once,” said his lordship. “Excuse me for ten minutes, my dear; Cornington has called about the Darfield property; I have put him off too long already; I will return as quickly as possible.” In the hall Lord Verner met his brother, and the Countess could hear him say, “You will find my wife in the library, Lionel; your own introduction will be sufficient: amuse her with an account of your voyage until I return.” The next moment Lionel entered the room. Amy pressed her hand upon her heart and summoned up all her courage and fortitude. He looked at her for a moment, and then with a sudden gleam of joy upon his face he rushed towards her. Amy stepped back a few paces and coldly extended her hand. “Why, what is this, Amy?” said the Indian officer. “Surely some joke, some jest to increase my present happiness at sight of you.” “I do not understand you,” said the Countess, in real astonishment; for she had dismissed from her mind the possibility of Lionel’s ignorance of Mr. Tallant’s death and the discovery of Mrs. Somerton’s fraud. “You are here to surprise me, to punish me for my neglect by a gracious condescension; you have forgiven me, but I am to suffer for leaving you so strangely. I see it all, dear, dear Amy.” “Sir, is this the language which you address to your brother’s wife,” said Amy, with a glow of indignation and alarm in her face. “What do you mean? What is this? Pray be candid with me and forgive me. Surely the jest has gone far enough; your looks alarm me,” said Lionel, in a passion of appeal.