had forgotten the name, and when
Jane knocked at the door of Mrs. Osborn's boudoir, it was empty, both
the ladies having gone into the garden.

But Ameerah's story was quite true, Lady Walderhurst said in the evening
when Jane spoke of the matter as she dressed her for dinner. They had
been speaking of a book containing records of certain historical
Walderhursts. It was one Emily had taken from the library to read in her
bedroom.

"We did not ask her to go for it. In fact I did not know the woman was
within hearing. She moves about so noiselessly one frequently does not
know when she is near. Of course she meant very well, but she does not
know our English ways."

"No, my lady, she does not," said Jane, respectfully but firmly. "I took
the liberty of telling her she must keep to her own part of the house
unless required by your ladyship."

"You mustn't frighten the poor creature," laughed her mistress. She was
rather touched indeed by the slavish desire to please and do service
swiftly which the Ayah's blunder seemed to indicate. She had wished to
save her mistress even the trouble of giving the order. That was her
Oriental way, Emily thought, and it was very affectionate and
child-like.

Being reminded of the book again, she carried it down herself into the
drawing-room. It was a volume she was fond of because it recorded
romantic stories of certain noble dames of Walderhurst lineage.

Her special predilection was a Dame Ellena, who, being left with but few
servitors in attendance during her lord's absence from his castle on a
foraging journey into an enemy's country, had defended the stronghold
boldly against the attack of a second enemy who had adroitly seized the
opportunity to forage for himself. In the cellars had been hidden
treasure recently acquired by the usual means, and knowing this, Dame
Ellena had done splendid deeds, marshalling her small forces in such way
as deceived the attacking party and showing herself in scorn upon the
battlements, a fierce, beauteous woman about to give her lord an heir,
yet fearing naught, and only made more fierce and full of courage by
this fact. The son, born but three weeks later, had been the most
splendid and savage fighter of his name, and a giant in build and
strength.

"I suppose," Emily said when they discussed the legend after dinner, "I
suppose she felt that she could do _anything_," with her italics. "I
daresay _nothing_ could make her afraid, but the thoug