w she
is too bashful to be able to utter one quarter of them."

As the girls emerged into the room, and the light from the great
windows struck upon Madeleine's fair curls and the delicate pallor of
her cheek; as she extended her hand, and raised to Adrian's face,
while she dropped her pretty curtsey, the gaze of two unconsciously
plaintive blue eyes, the man dashed the sweat from his brow with a
gesture of relief.

Nothing could be more unlike the dark beauty of the ghost of his
dreams or its dashing presentment now smiling confidently upon him
from Tanty's side.

He took the little hand with tender pressure: Cecile's daughter must
be precious to him in any case. Madeleine, moreover, had a certain
appealing grace that was apt to steal the favour that Molly won by
storm.

"But, indeed, I could never tell Sir Adrian how grateful I am," said
she, with a timidity that became her as thoroughly as Molly's
fearlessness suited her own stronger personality.

At the sound of her voice, again the distressful nightmare-like
feeling seized Sir Adrian's soul.

Of all characteristics that, as the phrase is, "go in families,"
voices are generally the most peculiarly generic.

When Molly first addressed Sir Adrian, it had been to him as a voice
from the grave; now Madeleine's gentle speech tripped forth upon that
self-same note--Cecile's own voice!

And next Molly caught up the sound, and then Madeleine answered again.
What they said, he could not tell; these ghosts--these speaking
ghosts--brought back the old memories too painfully. It was thus
Cecile had spoken in the first arrogance of her dainty youth and
loveliness; and in those softer tones when sorrow and work and failure
had subdued her proud spirit. And now she laughs; and hark, the laugh
is echoed! Sir Adrian turns as if to seek some escape from this
strange form of torture, meets Rupert's eye and instinctively braces
himself into self-control.

"Come, come," cried Miss O'Donoghue, in her comfortable, commonplace,
cheerful tone: "This dinner bell of yours, Adrian, has raised false
hopes, which seem to tarry in their fulfilment. What are we waiting
for, may I ask?"

Adrian looked at his brother.

"Rupert, you know, my dear aunt," he said, "has the ordering of these
matters."

"Sophia is yet absent," quoth Rupert drily, "but we can proceed
without her, if my aunt wishes."

"Pooh, yes. Sophia!" snorted Miss O'Donoghue, grasping Sir Adrian's
arm to show hersel