ained by hearsay.

"He is at St. Petersburg?" she asked, indifferently.

"No, my lady; at Simla," was the unexpected answer. "He has been
there a good while. I had a pamphlet from him the other day. When he
has not time to answer my letters, he often sends me a paper, or
something like that, to show me what he has been doing. I can't
always understand them, but he knows I like to have them just because
he wrote them."

Bettina was unwilling to show her ignorance, so she did not say that
she had no knowledge that he ever wrote for publication, and when
Parlett went on to offer her the reading of the pamphlet she said,
with an indifferent kindness,

"Yes, bring it to me, by all means. I am very glad that Mr. Horace
keeps up his intercourse with the old place, which of course may yet
be his. I shall take an interest in seeing what he writes."

She went on to speak of certain changes which she wished made in some
of the sleeping-apartments, and then dismissed her housekeeper with
something less than her usual graciousness of manner.

Bettina felt a strong desire to be alone. These tidings of Horace,
slight as they were, had been disturbing to her. Indeed, as time
went on and her knowledge of Lord Hurdly increased, the fear that
he might have dealt insincerely with his cousin or with herself grew
steadily. She saw proofs every day of the ruthlessness with which he
sacrificed men, and even what should have been principles, to gain
his ends. By the light of the same knowledge she realized how his
meeting with her had disturbed him in his customary calmness of
poise, and she argued from this fact how important it had been to him
to gain his object of making her his wife.

In the midst of these reflections a house-maid tapped at her door,
with some folded papers on a tray.

"If you please, my lady, Mrs. Parlett sends you these," she said.

She was a sweet-faced, rosy-cheeked English girl, with a soft voice
and very pretty manner, and at present she was gently agitated by the
privilege of speaking to her lady, whom she, as well as all the rest
of the maids, regarded as a sort of cross between angel and goddess.

Bettina thanked her with a kind smile which sent her away completely
happy; then, in the privacy of her own chamber, she opened the
papers. One was a diplomatic pamphlet on a public question in the
line of the writer's professional work. The other was an article
which went very thoroughly into the question of