f her husband, left things as she found them
in the new house. At the opening of eighteen hundred and sixty-seven the
relations between Anne and Blanche were relations of sisterly sympathy
and sisterly love. The prospect in the future was as fair as a prospect
could be.

At this date, of the persons concerned in the tragedy of twelve years
since at the Hampstead villa, three were dead; and one was self-exiled
in a foreign land. There now remained living Anne and Blanche, who had
been children at the time; and the rising solicitor who had discovered
the flaw in the Irish marriage--once Mr. Delamayn: now Lord Holchester.

THE STORY.

FIRST SCENE.--THE SUMMER-HOUSE.

CHAPTER THE FIRST.

THE OWLS.

IN the spring of the year eighteen hundred and sixty-eight there lived,
in a certain county of North Britain, two venerable White Owls.

The Owls inhabited a decayed and deserted summer-house. The summer-house
stood in grounds attached to a country seat in Perthshire, known by the
name of Windygates.

The situation of Windygates had been skillfully chosen in that part
of the county where the fertile lowlands first begin to merge into the
mountain region beyond. The mansion-house was intelligently laid out,
and luxuriously furnished. The stables offered a model for ventilation
and space; and the gardens and grounds were fit for a prince.

Possessed of these advantages, at starting, Windygates, nevertheless,
went the road to ruin in due course of time. The curse of litigation
fell on house and lands. For more than ten years an interminable lawsuit
coiled itself closer and closer round the place, sequestering it from
human habitation, and even from human approach. The mansion was closed.
The garden became a wilderness of weeds. The summer-house was choked up
by creeping plants; and the appearance of the creepers was followed by
the appearance of the birds of night.

For years the Owls lived undisturbed on the property which they had
acquired by the oldest of all existing rights--the right of taking.
Throughout the day they sat peaceful and solemn, with closed eyes, in
the cool darkness shed round them by the ivy. With the twilight they
roused themselves softly to the business of life. In sage and silent
companionship of two, they went flying, noiseless, along the quiet lanes
in search of a meal. At one time they would beat a field like a setter
dog, and drop down in an instant on a mouse unaware of them