ncreasingly throughout these months of 1899 was the solemn
heavy air unsettled.

Lizzie, to whom all impression came with sharpening acuteness, had seen
in the appearance, success and marriage of Rachel Beaminster the
disturbing elements at work--"Things will never be the same here
again"--she had said to herself.

It was, of course, through Lady Adela that Lizzie studied the house. The
Duchess she never saw, but it was Lady Adela's attitude, before and
after those interviews with her mother, that told their story. Lady
Adela had never until now appeared an interesting figure to Lizzie, but
now forth, from the dry sterile husk of her, a life, pathetic,
struggling against heritages of dumb years, tried to come.

Lady Adela was unhappy; the very foundations of her existence threatened
to dismay her, at any moment, by their insecurity. Within her the
Beaminster tradition urged, before Lizzie Rand at any rate, the
maintenance of dignity and indifference, but the novelty to her of all
this disturbance brought with it a hapless inability to deal with it,
and again and again little exclamations, little surprised wonders at
what the world could be coming to, little confused clutchings at
anything that offered stability, showed Lizzie that trouble was on every
side of her. Then through the house rumour began to twist its way--Her
Grace was not so well--"The Old Lady was breaking up" (this, in the
close security of shuttered rooms below stairs).

No one could say whence these whispers gathered. Dorchester would admit
nothing. Her own position in the servants' hall was that of a lofty
uncompromising female Jove, and she knew well enough that her supremacy
over Norris and Mrs. Newton depended on her mistress's supremacy over
the world in general. Not for her then to admit ill health.

"Indeed no--Her Grace has been better of late than for years past."

But Norris and Mrs. Newton were not to be taken in. They were truly
proud now of their alliance with the Beaminster family royal, but,
supposing Her Grace were to leave this world to rule in a better one
("Here to-day, gone to-morrow 'igh or low," as Norris remarked), why,
then "Le Roi est mort--Vive le Roi," and the Crown might, in the
meanwhile, have passed elsewhere.

"You mark my words," Mrs. Newton said to Norris, "'er Grace will go, old
Victorier will go, and where'll the Beaminster crowd be then, I ask you?
Times are movin' too quick. I wouldn't give a toss for your Bir