“Oh, no; I do not defy you,” was the pleasant rejoinder. “You are very angry, Lady Linton, because I will not allow myself to be frightened and browbeaten by you, but you will feel differently by and by when you come to consider matters in another light. I would rather do you a kindness than harm, and, by the way, I have a package belonging to you which I mean to return to you very soon.” “A package belonging to me! Where did you get it?” “It is one that I have had many years, but I have only recently discovered that it is yours.” “It is impossible that you can have anything of mine,” returned Lady Linton, coldly. Her companion smiled slightly, then said: “An uncle of mine was returning from the far East some twelve or thirteen years ago, and, on his way from London to Edinburgh, rode in the same railway carriage with a lady who got out at one of the way stations. He never knew which station it was, for he had fallen asleep shortly after leaving London, and when he awoke she was gone. He found a package, however, which she had dropped and which he could not return, because there was no name upon it, therefore he was forced to take it home to America with him. He confided it to me on his death-bed with the injunction to return it to the owner if I should ever be so fortunate as to meet her. I discovered on the evening of our meeting at Lady Dunforth’s that you were the owner.” “I assure you that you are mistaken. I never lost a package in a railway carriage,” returned Lady Linton, haughtily. “No, but a friend to whom you confided it, lost it.” “What—who?” demanded her ladyship, with a start. “The way I learned that it belonged to you,” Mrs. Alexander resumed, “was by observing upon the panel of your carriage door, as I left Lady Dunforth’s that evening, the Linton coat of arms. The seal upon the package of which I speak is stamped with a shield bearing a patriarchal cross and the motto ‘_Droit et Loyal_,’ and there is also written upon the wrapper this sentence, ‘To be destroyed unopened in the event of my death.’” Lady Linton had shrunk back appalled during this description, and now stood leaning against the wall, white, trembling while great beads of perspiration stood about her mouth and on her forehead. “Great heavens! have you got that?” at last burst from her quivering lips, in a tone or horror. “Yes! it is a singular coincidence, is it not?” inquired her companion, serenely. “However, I will return it to you very soon. And now, good-morning, Lady Linton. This will be a very busy day for me, and I must not tarry longer.” With these words, Virginia Alexander swept by the stricken woman with a courteous inclination of her head, and went on her way, apparently unruffled by anything that had occurred during the spirited interview with her sworn enemy, Sir William Heath’s sister.