ad gone up for his pipe. It was while preparing this
that the card had come.

"Lady Chetwynde!"

His first impulse was to give a long, low whistle. After this he
arose in silence and went down to the chief room. A lady was sitting
there, who rose as he entered. Obed bowed low and looked at her
earnestly as he seated himself.

"I hope, Sir," said the lady, in a clear, musical voice, "that you
will excuse the liberty which I have taken; but the object that
brings me here is one of such importance that I have been compelled
to come in person. It was only of late that I learned that you were
residing here, and as soon as I heard it I came to see you."

Obed Chute bowed again, but said not a word.

His bewilderment was yet strong, and he did not wish to commit
himself. This lady was beautiful, and graceful in her manner. She
called herself Lady Chetwynde. The name puzzled him, and, in addition
to the other puzzle that had visited him on this eventful day, was
hard to be borne. But he bore it bravely, and was silent. In his
silence he regarded his visitor with the closest scrutiny. At the
first glance he had marked her beauty. A further observation showed
that she was agitated, that she was pale, and bore marks of
suffering. She was a woman in distress. In the midst of Obed's
perplexity the discovery of this aroused his chivalrous sympathy.

This was Hilda's last venture, and she felt it to be such. She had
come out with the expectation of finding Gualtier on the road, and of
receiving some message from him. She had seen nothing of him. She had
waited about half an hour on the road, till she could wait no longer,
and then she had gone onward. She thought that Gualtier might have
failed her, but such a thing seemed so improbable that she began to
fear some disaster. Perhaps he had fallen a victim to his devotion.
The thought of this troubled her, and increased her agitation; and
now, when she found herself in the presence of Obed Chute, her
agitation was so marked as to be visible to him. Yet, as far as he
was concerned, this agitation only served to favor her cause in his
eyes.

"Mr. Chute," said Hilda, in low, steady tones, "I am Lady Chetwynde.
I am the daughter of General Pomeroy, once Captain Pomeroy, whom you
knew. He died a few years ago, and on his death-bed arranged a
marriage between me and the only son of the Earl of Chetwynde. It was
a sudden marriage. He insisted on it. He was dying, and his wishes
could