e married man, with hair fast whitening.

"A lady?" I echoed. "One of my cousins, I suppose, from Effingham."

"No, sir," said Collins. "A strange lady--a foreigner."

A stranger! a foreigner! I felt myself change color.

"She left her name?" I asked.

"Her card, sir," said Collins, and handed it to me.

I took it up with fingers that shook in spite of me and read:--

MADLLE DE SAINTE AULAIRE.

I dropped the card, with a sigh of profound disappointment.

"At what time did this lady call, Collins?"

"Not very long after you left the house, sir. She said she would call
again. She is at the White Horse."

"She shall not have the trouble of coming here," I said, drawing my
chair to the table. "Send James up to the White Horse with my
compliments, and say that I will wait upon the lady in about an
hour's time."

Collins darted away to despatch the message, and returning presently
with the pale ale, uncorked it dexterously, and stood at the side-board,
serenely indifferent.

"And what kind of person was this--this Mademoiselle de Sainte Aulaire,
Collins?" I asked, leisurely bisecting a partridge.

"Can't say, sir, indeed. Lady kept her veil down."

"Humph! Tall or short, Collins?"

"Rather tall, sir."

"Young?"

"Haven't an idea, sir. Voice very pleasant, though."

A pleasant voice has always a certain attraction for me. Hortense's
voice was exquisite--rich and low, and somewhat deeper than the voices
of most women.

I took up the card again. Mademoiselle de Sainte Aulaire! Where had I
heard that name?

"She said nothing of the nature of her business, I suppose, Collins?"

"Nothing at all, sir. Dear me, sir, I beg pardon for not mentioning it
before; but there's been a messenger over from the White Horse, since
the lady left, to know if you were yet home."

"Then she is in haste?"

"Very uncommon haste, I should say, sir," replied Collins, deliberately.

I pushed back the untasted dish, and rose directly.

"You should have told me this before," I said, hastily.

"But--but surely, sir, you will dine--"

"I will wait for nothing," I interrupted. "I'll go at once. Had I known
the lady's business was urgent, I would not have delayed a moment."

Collins cast a mournful glance at the table, and sighed respect fully.
Before he had recovered from his amazement, I was half way to the inn.

The White Horse was now the leading hostelry of Saxonholme. The old Red
Lion was no more. Its former host and