d return with an eager sparkle in his eye, almost a
brightness on his olive cheek, to sit beside Madeleine's embroidery
frame, pulling her silks and snipping with her scissors, and talking
gaily, persistently, with such humour and colour as at last to draw
that young lady's attention from far off musings to his words with
smiles and laughter.

Meanwhile, Molly would sit unoccupied, brooding, watching them, now
fiercely, from under her black brows, now scornfully, now
abstractedly; the while she nibbled at her delicate finger-nails, or
ruthlessly dragged them along the velvet arms of her chair with the
gesture of a charming, yet distracted, cat.

Sir Adrian would first tramp the rooms with unwitting restlessness,
halting, it might be, beside his wife to strive to engage her into
speech with him; and, failing, would betake himself at length with a
heavy sigh to solitude; or, yet, he would sit down to his organ--the
new one in the great hall which had been put up since his marriage, at
Molly's own gay suggestion, during their brief betrothal--and music
would peal out upon them till Lady Landale's stormy heart could bear
it no longer, and she would rise in her turn, fly to the shelter of
her room and roll her head in the pillows to stifle the sound of sobs,
crying from the depths of her soul against heaven's injustice; anon
railing in a frenzy of impotent anger against the musician, who had
such passion in him and gave it to his music alone.

During Rupert's absences that curious intimacy which Molly had
contemptuously noted between her sister and sister-in-law displayed
itself in more conspicuous manner.

Miss Landale's long sallow visage sported its airs of mystery and
importance, its languishing leers undisguisedly, so long as her
brother Rupert's place was empty; and though her visits to the
rector's grave were now almost quotidian, she departed upon them with
looks of wrapt importance, and, returning, sought Madeleine's chamber
(when that maiden did not herself stroll out to meet her in the
woods), her countenance invariably wreathed with suppressed, yet
triumphant smiles, instead of the old self-assertive dejection.

* * * * *

The 15th of March of that year was to be a memorable day in the lives
of so many of those who then either dwelt in Pulwick, or had dealings
on that wide estate.

Miss Landale, who had passed the midnight hour in poring over the
delightful wickedness of La