to judge pretty accurately by
their future movements what was its portent."

Edward Percy, as he chose to call himself, was not aware of the
position held by Lucian Davlin in that household. Cora had seized an
opportunity to murmur to Miss Arthur a soft warning.

"Ellen, dear!" she had said, "pray don't mention Lucian to Mr. Percy,
unless you wish to shorten his stay with us. The fact is, the two had
a slight misunderstanding while we were all at Long Branch, about a
horse or something. Lucian was very much to blame, I think, but they
parted bad friends. It is best never to interfere in men's quarrels,
so I have not mentioned Lucian's name to him at all."

Cunning Celine! Her tact had made this explanation seem a quite
probable one; and as Miss Arthur certainly had no desire to drive Mr.
Percy from Oakley, she assured her "kind, thoughtful Cora," that she
would be very guarded and never once mention Mr. Davlin's name in his
enemy's presence.

Of this fact, of course, Celine was in total ignorance, as she
proceeded on her way, which was not to the telegraph office; at least
not yet.

Hurrying through the Oakley wood in the opposite direction from the
village, she crossed the meadow and approached the cottage of Nurse
Hagar. A light was dimly visible through the paper curtains, but no
sound was heard from within. The girl listened at the door a moment,
and then tapped softly.

Presently slip-shod feet could be heard crossing the uncarpeted floor,
and a key creaked in its lock, after which the door opened, a very
little way, and the old woman's face peered cautiously out into the
night. Then she hastily opened the door wide and admitted the visitor.

"Is it you, dearie?" she asked, rather unnecessarily, surveying her
critically by the light of a flaring tallow candle.

"No, Aunt Hagar, it's not I," laughed the girl; "it's Miss Arthur's
French maid that you see before you. And don't drop that tallow on her
devoted head," lifting a deprecating hand.

"Umph! we seem in great spirits to-night," leading the way back to the
fire-place, beside which stood her easy splint-bottomed chair.

"So we are," assented the girl; "and why shouldn't we be, pray? Aren't
we a very happy French maid, and a very skillful one, and a very lucky
one?"

"How should I know?" grumbled the old woman; "what do I know? I'm only
old Hagar; don't mind explaining anything to me!"

"By which you mean, beware of your wrath if I don't explain th