Five o’clock now struck. It was nearly dark. A servant with a taper was lighting up the chandeliers in the large dining-room where a table spread for dinner received the kindling lamplight upon a starry service of silver. It was likewise magnificently flashed back from a splendid sideboard all arranged in readiness to receive the great, the expected guest. Tolerably punctual in keeping an appointment when he meant to keep it at all, Zamorna entered the house as the fairy-like voice of a musical clock in the passage struck out its symphony to the pendulum. The opening of the front door, a bitter rush of the night-wind and then the sudden close, and the step advancing forwards, were the signals of his arrival. Miss Laury was in the dining-room looking round and giving the last touch to all things. She just met her master as he entered. His cold lip pressed to her forehead and his colder hand clasping hers brought the sensation which it was her custom of weeks and months to wait for; and to consider when attained the ample recompense for all delay, all toil, all suffering. ‘I am frozen, Mina,’ said he; ‘I came on horseback for the last four miles; and the night is like Canada.’ Chafing his icy hand to animation between her own warm supple palms, she answered by the speechless but expressive look of joy, satisfaction, idolatry, which filled and overflowed her eyes. ‘What can I do for you, my lord?’ were her first words as he stood by the fire rubbing his hands cheerily over the blaze. He laughed. ‘Put your arms round my neck, Mina, and kiss my cheeks as warm and blooming as your own.’ It gave her a pang to resist the impulse that urged her to take him at his word; but she put it by, and only diffidently drew near the armchair into which he had now thrown himself, and began to smooth and separate the curls which were matted on his temples. She noticed as the first smile of salutation subsided a gloom succeeded on her master’s brow, which, however he spoke or laughed, afterwards remained a settled characteristic of his countenance. ‘What visitors are in the house?’ he asked; ‘I saw the groom rubbing down four black horses before the stables as I came in. They are not of the Hawkscliffe stud, I think?’ ‘No, my lord. A carriage was overturned at the lawn gates about an hour since, and as the lady who was in it was taken out insensible I ordered her to be brought up here, and her servants accommodated for the night.’ ‘And do you know who the lady is?’ continued His Grace; ‘the horses are good: first-rate.’ ‘She says her name is Mrs. Irving, and that she is the wife of a Presbyterian minister in the north, but—’ ‘You hardly believe her?’ interrupted the duke. ‘No,’ returned Miss Laury; ‘I must say I took her for a lady of rank. She has something highly aristocratic about her manners and aspect, and she appeared to know a good deal about Angria.’ ‘What is she like?’ asked Zamorna; ‘young or old, handsome or ugly?’