en they had been degraded from their
original rank to the scrubbery of early services and daily wear. Her
thin gray hair was shaded by a black lace cap, decorated with bugles
and black weedy grasses. She wore black mittens, and jet jewellery, and
was altogether as deeply sable as if she had been in mourning for the
whole of the Skipwith race.

She received Miss Tempest with a formal politeness which was not
encouraging.

"I hope you will be able to make yourself happy here," she said; "and
that you have resources within yourself that will suffice for the
employment of your time and thoughts. I receive no company, and I never
go out. The class of people who now occupy the island are a class with
which I should not care to associate, and which, I daresay, would not
appreciate me. I have my own resources, and my life is fully employed.
My only complaint is that the days are not long enough. A quiet
existence like mine offers vast opportunities for culture and
self-improvement. I hope you will take advantage of them, Miss Tempest."

Poor Violet faltered something vaguely civil, looking sorely bewildered
all the time. Miss Skipwith's speech sounded so like the address of a
schoolmistress that Vixen began to think she had been trapped unawares
in a school, as people are sometimes trapped in a madhouse.

"I don't think Miss Tempest is given much to study," said the Captain
graciously, as if he and Violet were on the friendliest terms; "but she
is very fond of the country, and I am sure the scenery of Jersey will
delight her. By-the-way, we ventured to bring her big dog. He will be a
companion and protector for her in her walks. I have asked Doddery to
find him a kennel somewhere among your capacious outbuildings."

"He must not come into the house," said Miss Skipwith grimly; "I
couldn't have a dog inside my doors. I have a Persian that has been my
attached companion for the last ten years. What would that dear
creature's feelings be if he saw himself exposed to the attacks of a
savage dog?"

"My dog is not savage, to Persians or anyone else," cried Vixen,
wondering what inauspicious star had led the footsteps of an oriental
wander to so dreary a refuge as Les Tourelles.

"You would like to see your bedroom, perhaps?" suggested Miss Skipwith,
and on Violet's assenting, she was handed over to Hannah Doddery, the
woman who had opened the gate.

Hannah led the way up the broad old staircase, all bare and carpetless,
and