to all this she was
resolved. But she had not yet settled on the words with which she
would commence her narrative.

The last day wore itself away very tediously. Miss Altifiorla was in
her manner more objectionable than ever. Mr. Western had evidently
disliked her though he had hardly said so. During the days he had
left the two women much together, and had remained in his study or
had wandered forth alone. In this way he had increased his wife's
feeling of anger against her visitor, and had made her look forward
to her departure with increasing impatience. But an event happened
which had at once disturbed all her plans. She was sitting in the
drawing-room with Miss Altifiorla at about five in the evening,
discussing in a most disagreeable manner the secrecy of her first
engagement. That is to say, Miss Altifiorla was persisting in the
discussion, whereas Mrs. Western was positively refusing to make it
a subject of conversation. "I think you are demanding too much from
me," said Miss Altifiorla. "I have given way, I am afraid wrongly as
to your husband. But I should not do my duty by you were I not to
insist on giving you my advice with my last breath. Let me tell it. I
shall know how to break the subject to him in a becoming manner." At
this moment the door was opened and the servant announced Sir Francis
Geraldine.

The disturbance of the two women was complete. Had the dead ancestor
of either of them been ushered in they could not have received him
with more trepidation. Miss Altifiorla rose with a look of awe, Mrs.
Western with a feeling of anger that was almost dominated by fear.
But neither of them for a moment spoke a word, nor gave any sign of
making welcome the new guest. "As I am living so close to you," said
the baronet, putting on that smile which Mrs. Western remembered so
well, "I thought that I was in honour bound to come and renew our
acquaintance."

Mrs. Western was utterly unable to speak. "I don't think that we knew
that you were living in the neighbourhood," said Miss Altifiorla.

"Oh, yes; I have the prettiest, funniest, smallest little cottage in
the world just about two miles off. The Criterion it is called."

"What a very odd name!" said Miss Altifiorla.

"Yes, it is rather odd. I won the race once and bought the place with
the money. The horse was called Scratch'em, and I couldn't call my
house Scratch'em. I have built a second cottage, so that it is not so
very small, and as it is onl