all know it again
the instant I see or hear it. And now, dear mother, I must ride up to
Staunton to see some of the doctor's poor sick that he left in my charge
for as long as I stay here. I shall be back by three o'clock. I need not
ask you to take great care of that dear suffering girl up-stairs," said
Traverse, taking his hat and gloves for a ride.

"I shall go and stay with her as soon as she awakes," answered Mrs.
Rocke.

And Traverse, satisfied, went his way.

He had been gone perhaps an hour when the sound of a carriage was heard
below in the front of the house, followed soon by a loud rapping at the
hall door.

"It is dear Clara's guardian," said Marah Rocke, rising and listening.

Soon a servant entered and placed a card in her hand, saying:

"The gentleman is waiting in the hall below, and asked to see the person
that was in charge here, ma'am; so I fotch the card to you."

"You did right, John. Show the gentleman up here," said Marah; and as
soon as the servant had gone she looked at the card, but failed to make
it out. The name was engraved in Old English text, and in such a
complete labyrinth, thicket and network of ornate flourishes that no one
who was not familiar at once with the name and the style could possibly
have distinguished it.

"I do not think my boy would know this name at sight," was Marah's
thought as she twirled the card in her hand and stood waiting the
entrance of the visitor, whose step was now heard coming up the stairs.
Soon the door was thrown open and the stranger entered.

Marah, habitually shy in the presence of strangers, dropped her eyes
before she had fairly taken in the figure of a tall, handsome,
dark-complexioned, distinguished-looking man, somewhat past middle age,
and arrayed in a rich military cloak, and carrying in his hand a
military cap.

The servant who had admitted him had scarcely retired when Marah looked
up and her eyes and those of the stranger met--and--

"Marah Rocke!!!"

"Colonel Le Noir!!!"

Burst simultaneously from the lips of each.

Le Noir first recovered himself, and, holding out both hands, advanced
toward her with a smile as if to greet an old friend.

But Marah, shrinking from him in horror, turned and tottered to the
farthest window, where, leaning her head against the sash, she moaned:

"Oh, my heart: my heart! Is this the wolf to whom my lamb must be
committed?"

As she moaned these words she was aware of a soft step at her side