lth of rippling
black hair. Lady Helena thought her far more beautiful now than when
the coy smiles and dimples had been the chief charm. She admired, too,
the perfect and easy grace with which Dora fell at once into her proper
place as mistress of that vast establishment.

The pretty, musical voice was trained and softened; the delicate,
refined accent retained no trace of provincialism. Everything about
Dora pleased the eye and gratified the taste; the girlish figure had
grown matronly and dignified; the sweet face had in it a tinge of
sadness one may often see in the face of a mother who has lost a child.
Lady Helena, fastidious and critical, could find no fault with her
son's wife.

She welcomed her warmly, giving up to her, in her own graceful way, all
rule and authority. Helping her if in any way she required it, but
never interfering, she made Dora respected by the love and esteem she
always evinced for her.

But it was on Lillian's face that Lady Helena gazed most earnestly.
The pallor of sickness had given way to a rosy and exquisite bloom.
The fair, sweet face in its calm loveliness seemed to her perfect, the
violet eyes were full of light. Looking at her, Lady Helena believed
there were years of life in store for Ronald's only child.

There was much to talk about. Lord Earle told his mother how Hubert
Airlie had gone home to Lynnton, unable to endure the sight of
Earlescourt. He had never regained his spirits. In the long years to
come it was possible, added Ronald, that Lord Airlie might marry, for
the sake of his name; but if ever the heart of living man lay buried in
a woman's grave, his was with the loved, lost Beatrice.

Lionel Dacre knew he had done wisely and well to have the bed of the
lake filled up. In the morning he saw how each member of the family
shrank from going out into the grounds. He asked Lord Earle to
accompany him, and then the master of Earlescourt saw that the deep,
cruel water no longer shimmered amid the trees.

Lionel let him bring his wife and daughter to see what had been done;
and they turned to the author of it with grateful eyes, thanking him
for the kind thought which had spared their feelings. Green trees
flourished now on the spot where the water had glistened in the sun;
birds sang in their branches, green grass and ferns grew round their
roots.

Yet among the superstitious, strange stories were told. They said that
the wind, when it rustled among those