ry
feature. In brief space she had taken an inventory of the room. Old
Reynolds passed her and opened a side door which let in a flood of cool
air from the field where she had been a few minutes before. The old man
stood at the door a moment, watching the cliff path for his master.

"We do not use this door," he said, "for the boards out there are too
old to be safe."

Mrs. Carey went to the door, the upper part of which had once contained
squares of glass, but was now vacant, and saw that it opened on a short
hall-way about four feet deep, with an outer door, also half of glass,
which was closed. Through this door-window the old man had looked toward
the cliff. Outside was an old piazza, deeply shadowed by overhanging
trees.

When Mrs. Carey returned to the table, her eye rested on a photograph on
the top of a heap of old letters. She reached her hand for it; but
hesitated, glancing at the servant.

"May I look at this?" she asked, with a sweet smile; "I know almost all
Lord Brompton's friends;" and she took up the photograph.

One glance was enough; it was a woman's face, but only some passing
woman, whom no one could remember for a month. With a slight smile, she
laid it down.

There was nothing more to be gathered, except by closer investigation of
the tempting irregularity. She beamed on the old man as she turned to
go.

"You will meet his lordship on your way to the house," he said. "He will
come by the cliff path."

"Oh, no; I shall return by the lower walk, which is safer and shorter.
What is your name?"

"Reynolds, my lady."

"Good-night, Reynolds; and please do not mention my visit to any one."

"Except to his lordship--"

"No; not even to him, Reynolds. It would only pain him to know that his
friends were observing his changed estate. You understand?"

"I do, my lady, but--"

"But, Reynolds, I ask you to do this for my sake," and again the smile
beamed, the white hand was extended, and the subtle seductiveness of
beauty had its way once more. Men are never so old, so humble, or so
ignorant as to be insensible to the charm. Faithful old Reynolds took
the lovely soft hand in both of his, and bent his white head and kissed
it.

"Even he shall not know," he said; and the next moment she was
gone--this time not across the moonlit field path to the cliff, but into
the dark shadows of the woods on the other side of the lodge.

Reynolds watched her till she was lost in the gloom, and then return