nd as if his darkness induced metaphysics,
"how many yesterdays have there been and how many to-morrows are there
going to be?"

"I'll tell you, Tommy, when you tell me what those letters spell." And
again in response there was silence on the part of the closet, broken by
occasional kicks that shook the door, and even caused the old panel to
stir in its worm-eaten setting of oaken wainscot. As Helen looked up
after the silence that followed Tommy's demonstration, while the panel
yet slightly stirred, it seemed to her that a shiver ran over the lady
painted there; she remembered the ghost-stories, it made a shiver run
over her herself. She rose and went to look out of the window and see if
there were no sign of the chaise,--it was hardly time for Margaret yet.
Then she returned, and her fascinated eyes caught again the eyes of the
old Colonial Governor's lady, that lady who was her mother many
generations removed. It was a pale face painted there, as if the painter
had seen it only by moonlight,--dark eyes in which the lustre lay with
an effect of restless, searching radiance, and the delicate aquiline
nose and thin and haughty lip spoke of a woman capable of acting a
secret in her day, and keeping it long after, Helen thought. Whenever
she caught the eye of that portrait,--and so curiously well was it
painted, that she never looked at it without catching the eye,--the lady
shadowed there seemed to return a glance of defiance, and her lip wore a
curve of triumph. She kept one hand clasped over her crimson vest
embroidered with its golden tangles and purfles; perhaps in the other
her secret hung hidden out of sight. Now, in the dancing firelight, the
ruby that lay on the dame's forehead seemed to flicker like a live jewel
in Helen's eyes; as the flame rose, her breast heaved too, a color
rested on the pale cheek; as it fell, Helen fancied that she sighed;
with all the quick lightning and darkening of the crackling fire the
glance of the eyes shifted to and fro, the shadows round the mouth
wavered; now they lowered, and now they smiled, and now the parted lips
seemed just about to speak.

[Illustration]

Helen started to her feet in a tremble: no wonder Tommy hated to stay in
the closet; she sprung to let him out. And just then the old horse
stopped at the gate, with the sound of Frederick's voice. Helen forgot
Tommy, flung open the door to Frederick, and ran out to the gate as he
appeared coming in with his mother in h