"The worst of these sad things, you see, Theresa, is, that they _are_ visited upon the relatives: and there's no preventing it. Captain Andinnian must go through life henceforth as a marked man; in a degree as a banned one: liable to be pointed at by every stranger as a man who has a brother a convict." There was a pause. The last word grated on their ears. Miss Blake inwardly winced at it: should she become the wife of Karl Andinnian---- "Will Sir Adam be sent to Australia?" asked Mrs. Cleeve of her husband, interrupting Theresa's thoughts. "No. To Portland Island. It is said he is already there." "I wonder what will become of his money? His estate, and that?" "Report runs that he made it all over to his mother before the trial. I don't know how far that may be true. Well, it is a thousand pities for Captain Andinnian," summed up the colonel: "he was a very nice young fellow." They might have thought Lucy, sitting there, her face covered by her hand, was asleep, so still was she. Presently, Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve were called away to receive some visitors; and Miss Blake began folding her silks and white satin in tissue paper, for the hour of some service or other was at hand. Halting for a moment at the fire to shake the ends of silk from her gown into the hearth, she glanced at Lucy. "Suppose you had been married to Karl Andinnian, Lucy!" "Well?" "What an awful fate it would have been for you!" "I should only have clung to him the closer, Theresa," was the low answer. And it must be premised that neither Lucy nor any one else had the slightest notion of Miss Blake's regard for Karl. Miss Blake glanced at her watch. She had two minutes yet. She turned and stood before Lucy. In her unselfish judgment--and she did try to judge unselfishly always--a union with Captain Andinnian now, though she herself might stoop to put up with it in her great love, would be utterly beneath Lucy Cleeve. "You--you do not mean to imply that you would marry Captain Andinnian, as things are?" "I would. My father and mother permitting." "You unhappy girl! Where's your pride?" "I did not say I was going to do it, Theresa. You put an imaginary proposition; one that is altogether impossible, and I replied to _that_. I do not expect ever to see Karl Andinnian again in this world." Something in the despairing accent touched Miss Blake, in spite of her wild jealousy. "You seem very poorly to-day, Lucy," she gently said. "Are you in pain?" "No," replied Lucy, with a sigh: "not in pain. But I don't seem to get much better, do I, Theresa? I wish I could, for papa and mamma's sake." CHAPTER VI. An Atmosphere of Mystery.