ver that uplifted arm, and it fell to her side. From her
shoulder down to her foot, that proud form grew cold and feelingless and
dead, and she, who had so long carried herself as a queen among women,
sank in a senseless heap upon the floor.

CHAPTER XVI.

'HER FACE RESIGNED TO BLISS OR BALE.'

Lady Mary and the Fraeulein had been sitting in the drawing-room all this
time waiting for Lady Maulevrier to come to tea. They heard her come in
from the garden; and then the footman told them that she was in the
library with a stranger. Not even the muffled sound of voices penetrated
the heavy velvet curtain and the thick oak door. It was only by the loud
ringing of the bell and the sound of footsteps in the hall that Lady
Mary knew of the guest's departure. She went to the door between the
two rooms, and was surprised to find it bolted.

'Grandmamma, won't you come to tea?' she asked timidly, knocking on the
oaken panel, but there was no reply.

She knocked again, and louder. Still no reply.

'Perhaps her ladyship is going to take tea in her own room,' she said,
afraid to be officious.

Attendance upon her grandmother at afternoon tea had been one of
Lesbia's particular duties; but Mary felt that she was an unwelcome
substitute for Lesbia. She wanted to get a little nearer her
grandmother's heart if she could; but she knew that her attentions were
endured rather than liked.

She went into the hall, where the footman on duty was staring at the
light snowflakes dancing past the window, perhaps wishing he were a
snowflake himself, and enjoying himself in that white whirligig.

'Is her ladyship having tea in the morning-room?' asked Mary.

The footman gave a little start, as if awakened out of a kind of trance.
The sheer vacuity of his mind might naturally slide into mesmeric sleep.

He told Lady Mary that her ladyship had not left the library, and Mary
went in timidly, wondering why her grandmother had not joined them in
the drawing-room when the stranger was gone.

The sky was dark outside the wide windows, white hills and valleys
shrouded in the shades of night. The library was only lighted by the
glow of the logs on the hearth, and in that ruddy light the spacious
room looked empty. Mary was turning to go away, thinking the footman had
been mistaken, when her eye suddenly lighted upon a dark figure lying on
the ground. And then she heard an awful stertorous breathing, and knew
that her grandmother was lyi