her ladyship was perfectly
attired, with a view to the occasion. A fillet of superb white lace
encircled her head. She wore an adorable invalid jacket of white
cambric, trimmed with lace and pink ribbons. The rest was--bed-clothes.
On a table at her side stood the Red Lavender Draught--in color soothing
to the eye; in flavor not unpleasant to the taste. A book of devotional
character was near it. The domestic ledgers, and the kitchen report
for the day, were ranged modestly behind the devout book. (Not even
her ladyship's nerves, observe, were permitted to interfere with her
ladyship's duty.) A fan, a smelling-bottle, and a handkerchief lay
within reach on the counterpane. The spacious room was partially
darkened. One of the lower windows was open, affording her ladyship the
necessary cubic supply of air. The late Sir Thomas looked at his widow,
in effigy, from the wall opposite the end of the bed. Not a chair was
out of its place; not a vestige of wearing apparel dared to show itself
outside the sacred limits of the wardrobe and the drawers. The sparkling
treasures of the toilet-table glittered in the dim distance, The jugs
and basins were of a rare and creamy white; spotless and beautiful to
see. Look where you might, you saw a perfect room. Then look at the
bed--and you saw a perfect woman, and completed the picture.

It was the day after Anne's appearance at Swanhaven--toward the end of
the afternoon.

Lady Lundie's own maid opened the door noiselessly, and stole on tip-toe
to the bedside. Her ladyship's eyes were closed. Her ladyship suddenly
opened them.

"Not asleep, Hopkins. Suffering. What is it?"

Hopkins laid two cards on the counterpane. "Mrs. Delamayn, my lady--and
Mrs. Glenarm."

"They were told I was ill, of course?"

"Yes, my lady. Mrs. Glenarm sent for me. She went into the library,
and wrote this note." Hopkins produced the note, neatly folded in
three-cornered form.

"Have they gone?"

"No, my lady. Mrs. Glenarm told me Yes or No would do for answer, if you
could only have the goodness to read this."

"Thoughtless of Mrs. Glenarm--at a time when the doctor insists on
perfect repose," said Lady Lundie. "It doesn't matter. One sacrifice
more or less is of very little consequence."

She fortified herself by an application of the smelling-bottle, and
opened the note. It ran thus:

"So grieved, dear Lady Lundie, to hear that you are a prisoner in your
room! I had taken the opportunity o