Mrs. Weymore with a spasmodic cry; and then dropped
her white face in her hands, trembling from head to foot.

"Well, upon my word," Miss Everard said, addressing empty space, "this
does cap the globe! The Mysteries of Udolpho were plain reading compared
to Mr. Guy Vyking, and the effect he produces on people. He's a very
handsome young man, and a very agreeable young man; but I should never
have suspected he possessed the power of throwing all the elderly ladies
he meets into gasping fits. There's Lady Thetford, he was too much for
her, and she had to be helped out of the dining-room; and here's Mrs.
Weymore going into hysterics because he used to be called Guy Vyking. I
thought my lady might be the veiled lady of his story; but now I think
it must have been Mrs. Weymore."

Mrs. Weymore looked up, her very lips white as ashes.

"The veiled lady? What lady? May, tell me all you know of Mr. Vyking."

"Not Vyking now--Legard," answered May; and thereupon the young lady
detailed the scanty _resume_ the artist had given them of his history.

"And I'm very sure it isn't chance at all," concluded May Everard,
transfixing the governess with an unwinking stare; "and Mr. Legard is as
much a Thetford as Sir Rupert himself. I don't pretend to divination, of
course, and I don't clearly see how it is; but it is, Mrs. Weymore; and
you could enlighten the young man, and so could my lady, if either of
you chose."

Mrs. Weymore turned suddenly and caught May's two hands in hers.

"May, if you care for me, if you have any pity, don't speak of this, I
do know--but I must have time. My head is in a whirl. Wait, wait, and
don't tell Mr. Legard."

"I won't," said May; "but it's all very strange and very mysterious,
delightfully like a three-volume novel, or a sensation play. I'm getting
very much interested in the hero of the performance; and I'm afraid I
shall be deplorably in love with him shortly, if this sort of thing
keeps on."

Mr. Legard, himself, took the matter much more coolly than any one else;
smoked cigars philosophically; criticised Sir Rupert's pictures--did a
little that way himself; played billiards with his host; and chess with
Miss Everard, rode with that young lady, walked with her, sang duets
with her, in a deep melodious bass; made himself fascinating, and took
the world easy.

"It is no use getting into a gale about these things," he said to Miss
Everard, when she wondered aloud at his constitutional phlegm;