the rug at her feet, started
up and growled. She raised her head and listened, but only the ticking of
the clock was audible, and the wailing of the wind through the leafless
poplars.

"Down, Paragon! hush, sir!"

She patted his head soothingly, and he sank back a few seconds in quiet,
then sprang up with a loud bark. This time she heard an indistinct sound of
steps in the hall, and thought: "Nellie sees my light through the window,
and is coming to coax me upstairs." Something stumbled near the threshold,
a hand struck the knob as if in hunting for it, the door opened softly,
and, muffled in his heavy cloak, holding his hat in one hand, Russell
Aubrey stood in the room. Neither spoke, but he looked at her with such
mournful earnestness, such eager yet grieved compassion, that she read some
terrible disaster in his eyes. The years of estrangement, all that had
passed since their childhood, was forgotten; studied conventionalities fell
away at the sight of him standing there, for the first time, in her home.
She crossed the room with a quick, uncertain step, and put out her hands
toward him--vague, horrible apprehension blanching the beautiful lips,
which asked shiveringly--

"What is it, Russell? What is it?"

He took the cold little hands tremblingly in his, and endeavoured to draw
her back to the hearth, but she repeated--

"What has happened? Is it father, or Hugh?"

"Your father is well, I believe; I passed him on the road yesterday. Sit
down, Miss Huntingdon; you look pale and faint."

Her fingers closed tightly over his; he saw an ashen hue settle on her
face, and in an unnaturally calm low tone, she asked--

"Is Hugh dead? Oh, my God! why don't you speak, Russell?"

"He did not suffer much; his death was too sudden."

Her face had such a stony look that he would have passed his arm around
her, but could not disengage his hand; she seemed to cling to it as if for
strength.

"Won't you let me carry you to your room, or call a servant? You are not
able to stand."

She neither heeded nor heard him.

"Was it that horse; or how was it?"

"One of the bridges had been swept away by the freshet, and, in trying to
cross, he missed the ford. The horse must have been frightened and
unmanageable, the buggy was overturned in the creek, and your cousin,
stunned by the fall, drowned instantly; life was just extinct when I
reached him."

Something like a moan escaped her as she listened.

"Was anything done?"