In the queer little drawing-room of Redman's Farm it was twilight, so dense were the shadows from the great old chestnuts that surrounded it, before the sun was well beneath the horizon; and you could, from its darkened window, see its red beams still tinting the high grounds of Willerston, visible through the stems of the old trees that were massed in the near foreground. A figure which had lost its energy--a face stamped with the lines and pallor of a dejection almost guilty--with something of the fallen grace and beauty of poor Margaret, as we see her with her forehead leaning on her slender hand, by the stirless spinning-wheel--the image of a strange and ineffaceable sorrow, sat Rachel Lake. Tamar might glide in and out; her mistress did not speak; the shadows deepened round her, but she did look up, nor call, in the old cheerful accents, for lights. No more roulades and ringing chords from the piano--no more clear spirited tones of the lady's voice sounded through the low ceilings of Redman's Farm, and thrilled with a haunting melody the deserted glen, wherein the birds had ended their vesper songs and gone to rest. A step was heard at the threshold--it entered the hall; the door of the little chamber opened, and Stanley Lake entered, saying in a doubtful, almost timid way-- 'It is I, Radie, come to thank you, and just to ask you how you do, and to say I'll never forget your kindness; upon my honour, I never can.' Rachel shuddered as the door opened, and there was a ghastly sort of expectation in her look. Imperfectly as it was seen, he could understand it. She did not bid him welcome or even speak. There was a silence. 'Now, you're not angry with me, Radie dear; I venture to say I suffer more than you: and how could I have anticipated the strange turn things have taken? You know how it all came about, and you must see I'm not really to blame, at least in intention, for all this miserable trouble; and even if I were, where's the good in angry feeling or reproaches now, don't you see, when I can't mend it? Come, Radie, let by-gones be by-gones. There's a good girl; won't you?' 'Aye, by-gones are by-gones; the past is, indeed, immutable, and the future is equally fixed, and more dreadful.' 'Come, Radie; a clever girl like you can make your own future.' 'And what do you want of me now?' she asked, with a fierce cold stare. 'But I did not say I wanted anything.' 'Of course you do, or I should not have seen you. Mark me though, I'll go no further in the long route of wickedness you seem to have marked out for me. I'm sacrificed, it is true, but I won't renew my hourly horrors, and live under the rule of your diabolical selfishness.' 'Say what you will, but keep your temper--will you?' he answered, more like his angry self. But he checked the rising devil within him, and changed his tone; he did not want to quarrel--quite the reverse.