ng particular to write
about; I daresay he does not care for letter writing."

Slipping the note into her pocket, to be opened at leisure, Mrs.
Carradyne returned to the adorning of Eliza. Somehow, it was rather a
prolonged business--which made it late when the bride with her
bridesmaid and Hubert drove from the door.

Mrs. Carradyne remained in the room--to which Eliza was not to
return--putting this up, and that. The time slipped on, and it was close
upon twelve o'clock when she got back to the drawing-room. Captain Monk
was in it then, standing at the window; which he had thrown wide open.
To see more clearly the bridal party come out of the church, was the
thought that crossed Mrs. Carradyne's mind in her simplicity.

"I very much feared they would be late," she observed, sitting down near
her brother: and at that moment the church clock began to strike twelve.

"A good thing if they were _too_ late!" he answered. "Listen."

She supposed he wanted to count the strokes--what else could he be
listening to? And now, by the stir at the distant gates, she saw that
the bridal party had come out.

"Good heavens, what's that?" shrieked Mrs. Carradyne, starting from her
chair.

"The chimes," stoically replied the Captain. And he proceeded to hum
through the tune of "The Bay of Biscay," and beat a noiseless
accompaniment with his foot.

"_The Chimes_, Emma," he repeated, when the melody had finished itself
out. "I ordered them to be played. It's the last day of the old year,
you know."

Laughing slightly at her consternation, Captain Monk closed the window
and quitted the room. As Mrs. Carradyne took her handkerchief from her
pocket to pass it over her face, grown white with startled terror, the
note she had put there came out also, and fell on the carpet.

Picking it up, she stood at the window, gazing forth. Her sight was not
what it used to be; but she discerned the bride and bridegroom enter
their carriage and drive away; next she saw the bridesmaid get into the
carriage from the Hall, assisted by Hubert, and that drive off in its
turn. She saw the crowd disperse, this way and that; she even saw the
gig there, its occupant talking with John Cale. But she did not look at
him particularly; and she had not the slightest idea but that Harry was
in India.

And all that time an undercurrent of depression was running riot in her
heart. None knew with what a strange terror she had grown to dread the
chimes.

She s