I sat aghast. I had been miserable about
Adelaide's marriage, but I had very greatly trusted in what she had
prognosticated about being able to do what she liked with him. I began
now to think that there must have been some miscalculation--that she
had mistaken the metal and found it not quite so ductile as she had
expected. I knew enough of her to be aware that I was probably the first
person to whom she had spoken in such a manner, and that not even to me
would she have so spoken unless some strong feeling had prompted her to
it. This made me still more uneasy. She held so fast by the fine polish
of the outside of the cup and platter. Very likely the world in general
supposed that she and Sir Peter were a model couple.

"I am glad you are here," she pursued. "It is a relief to have some one
else than Arkwright to speak to."

"Who is Arkwright?"

"Sir Peter's secretary--a very good sort of boy. He knows all about our
domestic bliss and other concerns--because he can't help. Sir Peter
tells him--"

A hand on the door-handle outside. A pause ere the persons came in, for
Sir Peter's voice was audible, giving directions to some one, probably
the secretary of whom Adelaide had spoken. She started violently; the
color fled from her face; pale dismay painted itself for a moment upon
her lips, but only for a moment. In the next she was outwardly herself
again. But the hand trembled which passed her handkerchief over her
lips.

The door was fully opened, and Sir Peter came in.

Yes; that was the same face, the same pent-house of ragged eyebrow over
the cold and snaky eye beneath, the same wolfish mouth and permanent
hungry smile. But he looked better, stouter, stronger; more cheerful. It
seemed as if my lady's society had done him a world of good, and acted
as a kind of elixir of life.

I observed Adelaide. As he came in her eyes dropped; her hand closed
tightly over the handkerchief she held, crushing it together in her
grasp; she held her breath; then, recovered, she faced him.

"Heyday! Whom have we here?" he asked, in a voice which time and a
residence in hearing of the language of music had not mollified. "Whom
have we here? Your dress-maker, my lady? Have you had to send for a
dress-maker already? Ha! what? Your sister? Impossible! Miss May,
I am delighted to see you again! Are you very well? You look a
little--a--shabby, one might almost say, my dear--a little seedy, hey?"

I had no answer ready for this winn