hysts, the touches of emerald green, the fringes of blue and purple
mist; by the familiar music of the streams, which is not as the Scotch
music; and the scents of the hills, which are not as the scents of the
Highlands. Yet all the time she was thinking of Harry and Lydia Penfold;
trying to plan the winter, and what she was to do.

It was dark, with a rising moon when she got back to Duddon. The butler,
an old servant, was watching for her in the hall. She noticed disturbance
in his manner.

"There are two ladies, my lady, in the drawing-room."

"Two ladies!--Hurst!" The tone was reproachful. Victoria did not always
suffer her neighbours gladly, and Hurst knew her ways. The first evening
at home was sacred.

"I could not help it, my lady. I told them you were out, and might not be
in till dark. They said they must see you--they had come from Italy--and
it was most important."

"From Italy!" repeated Victoria, wondering--"who on earth--Did they give
their name?"

"No, my lady, they said you'd know them quite well."

Victoria hurried on to the drawing-room. Two figures rose as she entered
the room, which was only lit by the firelight; and then stood motionless.

Victoria advanced bewildered.

"Will you kindly tell me your names?"

"Don't you remember me, Lady Tatham?" said a low, excited voice.

Victoria turned on an electric switch close to her hand, and the room was
suddenly in a blaze of light. She looked in scrutinizing astonishment at
the figure in dingy black, standing before her, and at a girl, looking
about sixteen--deathly pale--who seemed to be leaning on a chair in the
background.

That strange, triangular face, with the sharp chin, and the abnormal
eyes--where, in what dim past, had she seen it before? For some seconds
memory wrestled. Then, old and new came together; and she recognized her
visitor.

"Mrs. Melrose!" she said, in incredulous amazement. The woman in black
came nearer, and spoke brokenly--the bitter emotion beneath gradually
forcing its way.

"I am in great distress--I don't know what to do. My daughter and I are
starving--and I remembered you'd come to see me--that once--at Threlfall.
I knew all about you. I've asked English people often. I thought perhaps
you'd help me--you'd tell me how to make my husband do something for
me--for me--and for his daughter! Look at her"--Netta paused and
pointed--"she's ill--she's dropping. We had to hurry through from Lucca.
We couldn't affor