d to
its pacific results. So Mr. Bassett's opposition chilled her in the
matter.

While things were so, something occurred that drove all these minor
things out of her distracted heart.

One summer evening, as she and Sir Charles and Compton sat at dinner, a
servant came in to say there was a stranger at the door, and he called
himself Bassett.

"What is he like?" said Lady Bassett, turning pale.

"He looks like a foreigner, my lady. He says he is Mr. Bassett,"
repeated the man, with a scandalized air.

Sir Charles got up directly, and hurried to the hall door. Compton
followed to the door only and looked.

Sure enough it was Reginald, full-grown, and bold, as handsome as ever,
and darker than ever.

In that moment his misconduct in running away never occurred either to
Sir Charles or Compton; all was eager and tremulous welcome. The hall
rang with joy. They almost carried him into the dining-room.

The first thing they saw was a train of violet-colored velvet, half
hidden by the table.

Compton ran forward with a cry of dismay.

It was Lady Bassett, in a dead swoon, her face as white as her neck and
arms, and these as white and smooth as satin.

CHAPTER XLII.

LADY BASSETT was carried to her room, and did not reappear. She kept
her own apartments, and her health declined so rapidly that Sir Charles
sent for Dr. Willis. He prescribed for the body, but the disease lay in
the mind. Martyr to an inward struggle, she pined visibly, and her
beautiful eyes began to shine like stars, preternaturally large. She
was in a frightful condition: she longed to tell the truth and end it
all; but then she must lose her adored husband's respect, and perhaps
his love; and she had not the courage. She saw no way out of it but to
die and leave her confession; and, as she felt that the agony of her
soul was killing her by degrees, she drew a somber resignation from
that.

She declined to see Reginald. She could not bear the sight of him.

Compton came to her many times a day, with a face full of concern, and
even terror. But she would not talk to him of herself.

He brought her all the news he heard, having no other way to cheer her.

One day he told her there were robbers about. Two farmhouses had been
robbed, a thing not known in these parts for many years.

Lady Bassett shuddered, but said nothing.

But by-and-by her beloved son came to her in distress with a grief of
his own.

Ruperta Bassett was now the