at the gate, looking at the house--a
great black mass, blacker than the surrounding gloom. That had been her
home for many years now, ever since her youth and sprightliness had
vanished, and she had had nowhere to go for shelter. It had been her
home ever since Richard, her youngest boy, had entered it, too, as a
dependent.

Oh! what an immeasurable fool she had been, how she had been tricked and
fooled all these years by the man who two days ago had put a crown upon
his own infamy. He knew where the boys were, he helped to keep them away
from their mother, so as to filch from them their present, and above
all, future inheritance. How she loathed him now, and loathed herself
for having allowed him to drag her down. Aye! of a truth he had wronged
her worse even than he had wronged his brother's sons!

She fixed her eyes steadily on the one light which alone pierced the
inky blackness of the solid mass of the house. It came from the little
withdrawing-room, which was on the left of this entrance to the hall;
but the place itself--beyond just that one tiny light--appeared quite
silent and deserted. Even from the stableyard on her right and from the
serving-men's quarters not a sound came to mingle with the weird
whisperings of the wind.

Editha approached and stooping to the ground, she groped in the mud
until her hands encountered two or three pebbles.

She picked them up, then going close to the house, she threw these
pebbles one by one against the half-closed shutter of the
withdrawing-room.

The next moment, she heard the latch of the casement window being lifted
from within, and anon the rickety shutter flew back with a thin creaking
sound like that of an animal in pain.

The upper part of Sir Marmaduke's figure appeared in the window
embrasure, like a dark and massive silhouette against the yellowish
light from within. He stooped forward, seeming to peer into the
darkness.

"Is that you, Editha?" he queried presently.

"Yes," she replied. "Open!"

She then waited a moment or two, whilst he closed both the shutter and
the window, she standing the while on the stone step before the portico.
In the stillness she could hear him open the drawing-room door, then
cross the hall and finally unbolt the heavy outer door.

She pushed past him over the threshold and went into the gloomy hall,
pitch dark save for the flickering light of the candle which he held.
She waited until he had re-closed the door, then she st