ude of friends so busy with content and pleasure--who will blame
them?--that an absentee makes little difference, and as for relatives,
not a single one except the Baroness de Chenier, who is large enough to
count as double."

"And there will be--there will be the lady," said Olivia, with a poor
attempt at raillery.

For a moment he failed to grasp her allusion.

"Of course, of course," said he hastily; "I hope, indeed, to see _her_
there." He felt an exaltation simply at the prospect. To see her there!
To have a host's right to bid welcome to his land this fair wild-flower
that had blossomed on rocks of the sea, unspoiled and unsophisticated!

The jasmine stirred more obviously: it was fastened with a topaz brooch
that had been her mother's, and had known of old a similar commotion;
she became diligent with a book.

It was then there happened the thing that momentarily seemed a blow of
fate to both of them. But for Mungo's voice at intervals in the kitchen,
the house was wholly still, and through the calm winter night there came
the opening bars of a melody, played very softly by Sim MacTaggart's
flageolet. At first it seemed incredible--a caprice of imagination, and
they listened for some moments speechless. Count Victor was naturally
the least disturbed; this unlooked-for entertainment meant the pleasant
fact that the Duchess had been nowise over-sanguine in her estimate of
the Chamberlain's condition. Here was another possible homicide off
his mind; the Gaelic frame was capable, obviously, of miraculous
recuperation. That was but his first and momentary thought; the next
was less pleasing, for it seemed not wholly unlikely now that after
all Olivia and this man were still on an unchanged footing, and Mungo's
sowing of false hopes was like to bring a bitter reaping of regretful
disillusions. As for Olivia, she was first a flame and then an icicle.
Her face scorched; her whole being seemed to take a sudden wild alarm.
Count Victor dared scarcely look at her, fearing to learn his doom or
spy on her embarrassment until her first alarm was over, when she drew
her lips together tightly and assumed a frigid resolution. She made no
other movement.

A most bewitching flageolet! It languished on the night with an
o'ermastering appeal, sweet inexpressibly and melting, the air unknown
to one listener at least, but by him enviously confessed a very siren
spell. He looked at Olivia, and saw that she intended to ignore it.