trees, wailed with a cry like
that of one drowning, that the leaves shivered and trembled as they did
on no other branches; that the stirring of them resembled deep-drawn
sighs. They said flowers would never grow in the thick grass, and that
the antlered deer shunned the spot.

As much as possible the interior arrangements of Earlescourt had been
altered. Lillian had rooms prepared for her in the other wing; those
that had belonged to her hapless sister were left undisturbed. Lady
Dora kept the key; it was known when she had been visiting them; the
dark eyes bore traces of weeping.

Beatrice had not been forgotten and never would be. Her name was on
Lillian's lips a hundred times each day. They had been twin sisters,
and it always seemed to her that part of herself lay in the church yard
at the foot of the hill.

Gaspar Laurence had gone abroad--he could not endure the sight or name
of home. Lady Laurence hoped that time would heal a wound that nothing
else could touch. When, after some years, he did return, it was seen
that his sorrow would last for life. He never married--he never cared
for the name of any woman save that of Beatrice Earle.

* * * * *

A week after their return, Lillian Earle stood one evening watching
from the deep oriel window the sun's last rays upon the flowers.
Lionel joined her, and she knew from his face that he had come to ask
the question she had declined to answer before.

"I have done penance, Lillian," he said, "if ever man has. For two
years I have devoted time, care, and thought to those you love, for
your sake; for two years I have tried night and day to learn, for your
sake, to become a better man. Do not visit my fault too heavily upon
me. I am hasty and passionate--I doubted you who were true and pure;
but, Lillian, in the loneliness and sorrow of these two years I have
suffered bitterly for my sin. I know you are above all coquetry. Tell
me, Lillian, will you be my wife?"

She gave him the answer he longed to hear, and Lionel Dacre went
straight to Lord Earle. He was delighted--it was the very marriage
upon which he had set his heart years before. Lady Dora was delighted,
too; she smiled more brightly over it than she had smiled since the
early days of her married life. Lady Helena rejoiced when they told
her, although it was not unexpected news to her, for she had been
Lionel's confidante during Lillian's illness.

There was no rea