at my dictation. You must tell her
that I have hurt my hand, that I am well but cannot use a pen. I would
not spoil her pleasure for the world.'

'Dear grandmother, how unselfish you are! And Maulevrier, shall he be
sent for? He is not so far away,' said Mary, hoping her grandmother
would say yes.

What a relief, what an unspeakable solace Maulevrier's presence would be
in that dreary house, smitten to a sudden and awful stillness, as if by
the Angel of Death!

'No, I do not want Maulevrier!' answered her ladyship impatiently.

'May I sit here and read to you, grandmother?' Mary asked, timidly. 'Mr.
Horton said you were to be kept very quiet, and that we were not to let
you talk, or talk much to you, but that we might read to you if you
like.'

'I do not wish to be read to. I have my thoughts for company,' said Lady
Maulevrier.

Mary felt that this implied a wish to be alone. She bent over the
invalid's pillow and kissed the pale cheek, feeling as if she were
taking a liberty in venturing so much. She would hardly have done it had
Lesbia been at home; but she had a feeling that in Lesbia's absence Lady
Maulevrier must want somebody's love--even hers. And then she crept
away, leaving Halcott the maid in attendance, sitting at her work at the
window furthest from the bed.

'Alone with my thoughts,' mused Lady Maulevrier, looking out at the
panorama of wintry hills, white, ghost-like against an iron sky.
'Pleasant thoughts, truly! Walled in by the hills--walled in and hemmed
round for ever. This place has always felt like a grave: and now I know
that it _is_ my grave.'

Fraeulein, and Lady Mary, and the maid Halcott, a sedate personage of
forty summers, had all been instructed by the doctor that Lady
Maulevrier was to be kept profoundly quiet. She must not talk much,
since speech was likely to be a painful effort with her for some little
time; she must not be talked to much by anyone, least of all must she be
spoken to upon any agitating topic. Life must be made as smooth and easy
for her as for a new-born infant. No rough breath from the outer world
must come near her. She was to see no one but her maid and her
granddaughter. Mr. Horton, a plain family man, took it for granted that
the granddaughter was dear to her heart, and likely to exercise a
soothing influence. Thus it happened that although Lady Maulevrier asked
repeatedly that James Steadman should be brought to her, she was not
allowed to see him. She