been frightened at the solemnity of Douglas Fraser's hasty farewell,
and, while Justine Delande affected to touch the breakfast spread
in their rooms by the Swiss lady's maid, now gloomy in an attack of
heimweh, Nadine saw a four-wheeler rattle away over the lawn, while
old Andrew Fraser grimly watched it until the gates clanged behind the
departing Anglo-Indian. Over the low wall, on the road, Douglas Fraser
caught a last glimpse of the graceful girl standing there. He sadly
waved an adieu, and Nadine Johnstone was left with but one friend in
the world, save the silent Swiss governess. Though the two women were
sumptuously lodged "in fair upper chambers," opening east and south,
with their maid near at hand, the gloomy chill of the silent household
had already penetrated the lonely girl's heart. No single sign of the
warmer amenities. Only books, books, dusty books, by the thousand, piled
helter-skelter in every available nook and cranny.

The servants were slouching and sullen, and they moved about their
duties with gloomy brows. Even the gardener and his two stout boys
struck sadly away with mattock and spade as if digging graves. No chirp
of bird, no baying of a friendly dog, no burst of childish merriment
broke the droning silence. And this was the home to which a father had
doomed his only child.

When the frightened maid tapped at the door to summon her mistress, her
feeble rapping sounded like a hammer falling sadly on the hollow coffin
lid. The girl stammered, "The master would like to see you both in the
library." And with a sinking heart Nadine Fraser Johnstone descended the
stair.

She had only cast a frightened glimpse at the yellowed, bony face,
the cavernous eye sockets, the bushy eyebrows, beneath which a cold
intellectual gleam still feebly flickered. Andrew Fraser had bent his
tall form over her, and peering down at her had whispered after their
few words of greeting:

"Did ye gain aught in knowledge of Thibet in your Indian life? My life
work lies there, and Hugh has sorely disappointed me. He was to send me
books and maps and papers for my 'History of Thibet and the Wanderings
of the Ten Tribes.'" With a confused negation the girl had fled away
to the cheerless shelter of the great rooms whose drab and gray
arrangements bespoke the Reformatory or a Refuge for the Friendless.

And the stern old scholar waited for the fluttering bird whom adverse
Fate had driven into his dismal lair with all the p