of some calamity by which all his plans would be ruined.

"Mr. M'Kenzie," said Hilda, rousing herself at length, and speaking
in a harsh, constrained voice, which yet was low and not audible
except to one who was near her, "have you seen Lord Chetwynde since
his arrival?"

"No, my lady," said Gualtier, respectfully, yet wondering at the
abruptness with which she introduced the subject. For it had always
hitherto been her fashion to lead the conversation on by gradual
approaches toward the particular thing about which she might wish to
make inquiries.

"I thought," she continued, in the same tone, "that he might have
called you up to gain information about the condition of the estate."

"No, my lady, he has never shown any such desire. In fact, he does
not seem to be conscious that there is such a person as myself in
existence."

"Since he came," said Hilda, dreamily, "he has been altogether
absorbed in the investigation of papers relating to his father's
business affairs; and as he has not been here for many years, during
which great changes must have taken place in the condition of things,
I did not know but that he might have sought to gain information from
you."

"No, my lady," said Gualtier once more, still preserving that
unfaltering respect with which he always addressed her, and wondering
whither these inquiries might be tending, or what they might mean.
That she should ask him any thing about Lord Chetwynde filled him
with a vague alarm, and seemed to show that the state of things was
unsatisfactory, if not critical. He was longing to ask about that
first meeting of hers with Lord Chetwynde, and also about the
position which they at present occupied toward one another--a
position most perplexing to him, and utterly inexplicable. Yet on
such subjects as these he did not dare to speak. He could only hope
that she herself would speak of them to him, and that she had chosen
this occasion to make a fresh confidence to him.

After his last answer Hilda did not say any thing for some time. Her
nervousness seemed to increase. Her hands still clutched one another;
and her bosom heaved and fell in quick, rapid breathings which showed
the agitation that existed within her.

"Lord Chetwynde," said Hilda at last, rousing herself with a visible
effort, and looking round with something of her old stealthy
watchfulness--"Lord Chetwynde is a man who keeps his own counsel, and
does not choose to give even so much as a