ntered these
solitary precincts except the doctor. The state of things here was
puzzling to him. He saw Lord Chetwynde whenever he came, but he never
saw Lady Chetwynde. On his asking anxiously about her he was told
that she was well. It was surprising to him that she never showed
herself, but he attributed it to her grief for the dead. He did not
know what had become of Miss Krieff, whose zeal in the sick-room had
won his admiration. Lord Chetwynde was too haughty for him to
question, and the servants were all new faces. It was therefore with
much pleasure that he one day saw Gualtier. Him he accosted, shaking
hands with him earnestly, and with a familiarity which he had never
cared to bestow in former days. But curiosity was stronger than his
sense of personal dignity. Gualtier allowed himself to be questioned,
and gave the doctor that information which he judged best for the
benefit of the world without. Lady Chetwynde, he told him, was still
mourning over the loss of her best friend, and even the return of her
husband had not been sufficient to fill the vacant place. Miss
Krieff, he said, had gone to join her friends in North Britain, and
he, Gualtier, had been appointed steward in place of the former one,
who had gone away to London. This information was received by the
doctor with great satisfaction, since it set his mind at rest
completely about certain things which had puzzled him.

That evening one of the servants informed Gualtier that Lady
Chetwynde wished to see him in the library. His pale face flushed up,
and his eyes lightened as he walked there. She was alone. He bowed
reverentially, yet not before he had cast toward her a look full of
unutterable devotion. She was paler than before. There was sadness on
her face. She had thrown herself carelessly in an arm-chair, and her
hands were nervously clutching one another. Never before had he seen
any thing approaching to emotion in this singular being. Her present
agitation surprised him, for he had not suspected the possibility of
any thing like this.

She returned his greeting with a slight bow, and then fell for a time
into a fit of abstraction, during which she did not take any further
notice of him. Gualtier was more impressed by this than by any other
thing. Always before she had been self-possessed, with all her
faculties alive and in full activity. Now she seemed so dull and so
changed that he did not know what to think. He began to fear the
approach