as if she had
received an electric shock, and entirely checked any further desire to
question him where his wife was concerned.

He turned towards the stairs again, but Dolf interposed with one of his
profound bows.

"'Scuse me, sar, but de brekfus is on de table."

Self-restraint must be kept up; whatever suspicions might arise when the
fact of Elizabeth's disappearance became known in the house, this proud
man would not expose himself to the curious eyes of his menials.

He went into the breakfast-room, drank the coffee Dolf poured out with a
skillful hand, pretended to eat a few morsels, then pushed his chair
back and hurried up to Elsie's chamber--he could not trust himself yet
in the presence of his servants.

Below stairs all sorts of stories were rife. Victoria peeped into
Elsie's room and came down with the information that "She lay dar
like a beautiful corpus!"

Everybody groaned in concert, but she added new astonishment by saying:

"And missus ain't nowhars about. She ain't in Miss Elsie's room, and she
ain't in her own, and her bed ain't been touched all night."

Clorinda began to nod her turban with a sapient air.

"What did I tell yer!" cried she. "Now what did I jist tell yer."

"But whar can she be?" wondered Dolf. "What do yer s'pose has happened,
Miss Clorinda?"

"'Nuff's happened," returned Clo, "and more'n 'nuff! I told yer de
tunderbust would break, an it has."

They urged and entreated her to speak; but it was difficult to speak
when she literally knew nothing, so she contented herself with going
about her work with unusual energy, while the rest stood around and
watched her, deeming this an occasion when idleness was to be taken
quite as a matter of course.

Clo nodded her head, muttered to herself, and made dreadful confusion
among her pots and pans, exciting her fellow-servants to a fearful pitch
by her air of mystery, but not a word would she speak beyond vague and
appalling hints.

While the servants below stairs wore away the morning in vague
conversation and surmises, growing every instant wilder and more
improbable, Grantley Mellen sat in that darkened chamber watching his
sleeping sister.

The physician arrived late in the evening; by that time Elsie was awake,
and he looked a little grave while giving his medicines and examining
into the case.

"Keep her very quiet," he said to Mellen, who followed him into the
hall; "it is a severe nervous attack, but she can endure