er joy
was boundless. Looking on that marble face, she seemed to recover
something of the strength and spirit it had immortalised.
Notwithstanding her restless night, she felt so clear in mind, so well
in body, that the forebodings which had perturbed her since her
exhausting visit to London were quite dismissed. To-day Lord Dymchurch
was coming; to-morrow May's betrothal would be a fact to noise abroad.
She would then summon Kerchever, and in the presence of Sir William
Amys, the trusty friend sure to outlive her, would complete that last
will and testament which was already schemed out. Twice already had she
executed a will, the second less than a year ago. When in town, she had
sufficiently discussed with her man of law the new situation brought
about by her discovery of May Tomalin; but the hope which she connected
with Lord Dymchurch bade her postpone awhile the solemn signature. All
had come to pass even as she desired, as she resolved it should. To the
end she was supreme in her own world.

When her guests arrived--all travelled from London by the same
train--she received them royally. She had clad herself with unusual
magnificence; on the shrivelled parchment of her cheeks shone an
audacious bloom; her eyes gleamed as if in them were concentrated all
the proud life which still resisted age and malady. Rising from her
bowered throne in the drawing-room, she took a step towards Lady Amys,
pressed her hand cordially--not at all feebly--and welcomed her with
affectionate words. The baronet she addressed as "Willy," but with such
a dignity of kindness in the familiar name that it was like bestowal of
an honour. Towards the peer her bearing was marked with grave courtesy,
softening to intimate notes as their conversation progressed. Scarce a
touch of senility sounded in her speech; she heard perfectly, indulged
in no characteristic brusquerie of phrase, fulfilled every formality
proper to the occasion.

Sir William and his wife were the only people of their world who had
always seen the lady of Rivenoak in her better aspect; who, whilst
appreciating the comedy of her life, regarded her with genuine
friendship. They understood the significance of Lord Dymchurch's visit,
and, like Mrs. Toplady, though in a much more human spirit, awaited
with amusement the successful issue of Lady Ogram's scheme. They saw no
harm in it. Dymchurch, it might well be, had fallen in love with the
handsome girl, and it was certain that her