Fancying, however, that his reticence disturbed Miss Eversleigh, he forced himself to converse with Lady Ashbrook--avoiding many of her pointed queries as to himself, his acquaintance with Sibyl, and the length of time he expected to stay in England--and even accompanied her to her carriage. And here he was rewarded by Sibyl running out with a crape veil twisted round her throat and head, and the usual femininely forgotten final message to her visitor. As the carriage drove away, she turned to Randolph, and said quickly,-- “Let us go in by way of the garden.” It was a slight detour, but it gave them a few moments alone. “It was so awful and sudden,” she said, looking gravely at Randolph, “and to think that only an hour before I had been saying unkind things of him! Of course,” she added naively, “they were true, and the groom admitted to me that the mare was overdriven and Sir William could hardly stand. And only to think of it! he never recovered complete consciousness, but muttered incoherently all the time. I was with him to the last, and he never said a word I could understand--only once.” “What did he say?” asked Randolph uneasily. “I don't like to say--it was TOO dreadful!” Randolph did not press her. Yet, after a pause, she said in a low voice, with a naivete impossible to describe, “It was, 'Jack, damn you!'” He did not dare to look at her, even with this grim mingling of farce and tragedy which seemed to invest every scene of that sordid drama. Miss Eversleigh continued gravely: “The groom's name was Robert, but Jack might have been the name of one of his boon companions.” Convinced that she suspected nothing, yet in the hope of changing the subject, Randolph said quietly: “I thought your guardian perhaps a little less frank and communicative to-day.” “Yes,” said the young girl suddenly, with a certain impatience, and yet in half apology to her companion, “of course. He--THEY--all and everybody--are much more concerned and anxious about my new position than I am. It's perfectly dreadful--this thinking of it all the time, arranging everything, criticising everything in reference to it, and the poor man who is the cause of it all not yet at rest in his grave! The whole thing is inhuman and unchristian!” “I don't understand,” stammered Randolph vaguely. “What IS your new position? What do you mean?” The girl looked up in his face with surprise. “Why, didn't you know? I'm the next of kin--I'm the heiress--and will succeed to the property in six months, when I am of age.” In a flash of recollection Randolph suddenly recalled the captain's words, “There are only three lives between her and the property.” Their meaning had barely touched his comprehension before. She was the heiress. Yes, save for the captain!