losing to her curious yet apprehensive
gaze the full features and figure of the new Lord Chetwynde. On that
instant, as he turned and faced her, she took in his whole face and
mien and stature. She saw a broad, intellectual brow, covered with
dark clustering hair; a face bronzed by the suns of India and the
exposure of the campaign, the lower part of which was hidden by a
heavy beard and mustache; and a tall, erect, stalwart frame, with the
unmistakable air of a soldier in every outline. His mien had in it a
certain indescribable grace of high breeding, and the commanding air
of one accustomed to be the ruler of men. His eyes were dark, and
full of quiet but resistless power; and they beamed upon her
lustrously, yet gloomily, and with a piercing glance of scrutiny from
under his dark brows. His face bore the impress of a sadness deeper
than that which is usually seen--sadness that had reigned there
long--a sadness, too, which had given to that face a more sombre cast
than common, from some grief which had been added to former ones. It
was but for a moment that he looked at her, and then he bowed with
grave courtesy. Hilda also bowed without a word, and then waited for
Lord Chetwynde to speak.

But Lord Chetwynde did not speak for some time. His earnest eyes were
still fixed upon the one before him, and though it might have been
rudeness, yet it was excusable, from the weight which lay on his
soul.

[Illustration: "Hilda Stood There, Calm, Watchful, And Expectant."]

Hilda, for her part, stood there, calm, watchful, and expectant. That
slender and graceful figure, with its simple and elegant dress, which
set off to the utmost the perfection of her form, looked certainly
unlike the ungrown girl whom Lord Chetwynde had seen years before.
Still more unlike was the face. Pale, with delicate, transparent
skin, it was not so dark as that face which had dwelt in his memory.
Her eyes did not seem so wild and staring as those of the imp whom he
had married; but deep, dark, and strong in their gaze, as they looked
back steadily into his. The hair was now no longer disordered, but
enfolded in its dark, voluminous masses, so as to set off to the best
advantage the well-shaped head, and slender, beautifully rounded
neck. The one whom he remembered had been hideous; this one was
beautiful. But the beauty that he saw was, nevertheless, hard, cold,
and repellent. For Hilda, in her beauty and grace and intellectual
subtilty, stoo