sed to twenty-nine, and really did not look more, except when
certain worries, which she usually kept in the background, pressed
heavily upon her. For a year, ever since Virginia had left America for
England and the Continent, she had lived with the sister and brother, and
had been reaping a harvest almost literally of gold and diamonds. She did
not want Virginia to marry and free herself from chaperonage; and if she
could not marry George Trent herself, since he was neither old enough nor
rich enough, she could not bear the thought that he might forget his
passing admiration for her, and fall seriously in love with some one
else.

She, too, was curious concerning mademoiselle and her past, but with a
very different curiosity from Virginia's, and she determined to learn the
story of the Dalahaides and their chateau above the Valley of the Shadow.
She did not, however, wish to appear curious before Virginia or her
brother, and hoped that the American girl, with her wonted audacity,
would at once approach the topic when they had rejoined Sir Roger Broom
and the Marchese Loria. But Virginia asked no questions, contenting
herself with answering those of her cousin, which for some reason
confined themselves entirely to the chateau. Lady Gardiner was sure,
since he admitted having known the Dalahaides, that, being human, Roger
would have liked to hear something of the girl who lived there like
Mariana in the Moated Grange; and it would have been interesting to know
why he refrained from mentioning her.

As they rode through the valley, dark and sad now, in the chill of its
early dusk, she brought her horse to Virginia's side in so narrow a
defile of the road that Roger, who was with the girl, dropped behind.

"Have you noticed that the Marchese hasn't asked us a single question
about your chateau?" she remarked. "He is a changed man since we came
into this valley. I wonder if there was ever anything between him and
that tragic-looking girl up there? Perhaps Sir Roger knows, and that's
the reason he didn't speak of her."

"Perhaps," echoed Virginia listlessly, and Kate Gardiner said no more.

An odd restraint seemed to have settled on the whole party, which had
started out so gaily in the sunshine. Each one was sunk deep in his or
her own thoughts, as if the twilight had touched them with its delicate
melancholy.

They were stopping at the Cap Martin hotel, high on the hill in its
beautiful garden, and among its pines; a