would have been found
unequal to support the heat and excitement of a ballroom, following on
the night air of the transit to it. Lovely as the night was, it was
cold: for some few evenings past the gardeners had complained of frost.

Lucy drew from the window with a half sigh; it seemed almost a pity to
shut out that pleasant moonlight: turned and stirred the fire into a
blaze. Sibylla's chilly nature caused them to enter upon evening fires
before other people thought of them.

"Shall I ring for lights, Mrs. Verner?"

"I suppose it's time, and past time," was Sibylla's answer. "I must have
been asleep ever so long."

Catherine brought them in. The man-servant had gone in attendance on his
mistress. The moderate household of Lady Verner consisted now but of
four domestics; Therese, Catherine, the cook, and the man.

"Shall I bring tea in, Miss Lucy?" asked Catherine.

Lucy turned her eyes on Sibylla. "Would you like tea now, Mrs. Verner?"

"No," answered Sibylla. "Not yet."

She left the room as she spoke. Catherine, who had been lowering the
curtains, followed next. Lucy drew a chair to the fire, sat down and
fell into a reverie.

She was aroused by the door opening again. It proved to be Catherine
with the tea-things. "I thought I'd bring them in, and then they'll be
ready," remarked she. "You can please to ring, miss, when you want the
urn."

Lucy simply nodded, and Catherine returned to the kitchen, to enjoy a
social _tete-a-tete_ supper with the cook. Mademoiselle Therese, taking
advantage of her mistress's absence, had gone out for the rest of the
evening. The two servants sat on and chatted together: so long, that
Catherine openly wondered at the urn's not being called for.

"They must both have gone to sleep, I should think," quoth she. "Miss
Lucy over the fire in the sitting-room, and Mr. Lionel's wife over hers,
upstairs. I have not heard her come down----"

Catherine stopped. The cook had started up, her eyes fixed on the
doorway. Catherine, whose back was towards it, hastily turned; and an
involuntary exclamation broke from her lips.

Standing there was Mrs. Verner, looking like--like a bedecked skeleton.
She was in fairy attire. A gossamer robe of white with shining
ornaments, and a wreath that seemed to sparkle with glittering dewdrops
on her head. But her arms were thin, wasted; and the bones of her poor
neck seemed to rattle as they heaved painfully under the gems clasped
round it: and he