His evening at his mother’s had not been a pleasant one—­that was evident.  Perhaps some vague hint of the darkening mystery had already reached The Grange.

“My mother feels rather hurt, Harrie,” he said, somewhat coldly, “that you did not accompany me.  She is unable to call on you, owing to a severe cold.  Mildred is absorbed in waiting upon her, and desires to see you exceedingly.  I promised them we would both dine there tomorrow and spend the evening.”

“As you please, Everard,” she said, wearily.  “It is all the same to me.”

She descended to breakfast next morning carefully dressed to meet the fastidious eye of her husband.  But she ate nothing.  A gloomy presentiment of impending evil weighed down her heart.  Her husband made little effort to rouse her—­the contagious gloom affected him, too.

“It is the weather, I dare say,” he remarked, looking out at the bleak, wintery day, the leaden sky, the wailing wind.  “This February gloom is enough to give a man the megrims.  I must face it, too, for to-day I ’meet the captains at the citadel’—­that is to say, I promised to ride over to Major Warden’s about noon.  You will be ready, Harrie, when I return to accompany me to The Grange?”

She promised, and he departed; and then Lady Kingsland ascended to her own apartment.

While she stood there, gazing at the gray desolation of the February morning, there was a soft tap at the door.

“Come in!” she said, thinking it her maid; and the door opened, and Sybilla Silver entered.

Lady Kingsland faced round and looked at her.  How handsome she was!  That was her first involuntary thought.  Her sweeping black robes fell around her tall, regal figure with queenly grace, the black eyes sparkled with living light, a more vivid scarlet than usual lighted up each dusky cheek.  She looked gloriously beautiful standing there.  Mr. Parmalee would surely have been dazzled had he seen her.

There was a moment’s pause.  The two women eyed each other as accomplished swordsmen may on the eve of a duel.  Very pale, very proud, looked my lady.  She disliked and distrusted this brilliant, black-eyed Miss Silver, and Miss Silver knew it well.

“You wish to speak with me, Miss Silver?” my lady said, in her most superb manner.

“Yes, my lady—­most particularly, and quite alone.  I beg your pardon, but your maid is not within hearing, I trust?”

“We are quite alone,” very coldly.  “Speak out; no one can overhear you.”

“I do not care for myself,” Sybilla said, her glittering black eyes meeting the proud gray ones.  “It is for your sake, my lady.”

“For my sake!” in haughty amaze.  “You can have nothing to say to me, Miss Silver, the whole world may not overhear.  If you intend to be impertinent, I shall order you out of the room.”

“One moment, my lady; you go too fast.  The whole world may not overhear the message Mr. Parmalee sends you by me.”