ed Joyce, in some surprise, as it appeared. "The
governess? Do you mean Madame Vine?"

"Do I mean you, or do I mean me? Are we governesses?" irascibly cried
Miss Corny. "Who should I mean, but Madame Vine?"

She turned herself round from the looking-glass, and gazed full in
Joyce's face, waiting for the answer. Joyce lowered her voice as she
gave it.

"There are times when she puts me in mind of my late lady both in her
face and manner. But I have never said so, ma'am; for you know Lady
Isabel's name must be an interdicted one in this house."

"Have you seen her without her glasses?"

"No; never," said Joyce.

"I did to-day," returned Miss Carlyle. "And I can tell you, Joyce, that
I was confounded at the likeness. It is an extraordinary likeness.
One would think it was a ghost of Lady Isabel Vane come into the world
again."

That evening after dinner, Miss Carlyle and Lord Mount Severn sat side
by side on the same sofa, coffee cups in hand. Miss Carlyle turned to
the earl.

"Was it a positively ascertained fact that Lady Isabel died?"

The earl stared with all his might; he thought it the strangest question
that ever was asked him. "I scarcely understand you, Miss Carlyle. Died?
Certainly she died."

"When the result of the accident was communicated to you, you made
inquiry yourself into its truth, its details, I believe?"

"It was my duty to do so. There was no one else to undertake it."

"Did you ascertain positively, beyond all doubt, that she did die?"

"Of a surety I did. She died in the course of the same night. Terribly
injured she was."

A pause. Miss Carlyle was ruminating. But she returned to the charge, as
if difficult to be convinced.

"You deem that there could be no possibility of an error? You are sure
that she is dead?"

"I am as sure that she is dead as that we are living," decisively
replied the earl: and he spoke but according to his belief. "Wherefore
should you be inquiring this?"

"A thought came over me--only to-day--to wonder whether she was really
dead."

"Had any error occurred at that time, any false report of her death, I
should soon have found it out by her drawing the annuity I settled upon
her. It has never been drawn since. Besides, she would have written to
me, as agreed upon. No, poor thing, she is gone beyond all doubt, and
has taken her sins with her."

Convincing proofs; and Miss Carlyle lent her ear to them.

The following morning while Madame Vine was at