rimmer, and
forthwith he took his departure.

When it was too late to recall her promise, Dora regretted having given
it. She was rather frightened, and could not guess what the terrible old
man could possibly want with her. The time of her marriage was drawing
near, and she was striving to cast out of her heart all thoughts of Dick,
or of the Swintons, or anybody connected with the old, happy days. If Mr.
Herresford desired to see her, it could only be to talk about Dick.

The blood rushed to her cheeks. Then came a reaction, and her heart
almost stood still as the wild idea came that perhaps, after all, Dick
lived. Everybody else had regarded the idea of his being alive as
preposterous; yet, for a long while, she had dreamed and hoped that the
story of his death was false. Then, as time went on, the hope grew
fainter; and, after many months, she abandoned it. She trembled now to
think what her attitude would be if that dream came true. Of course, the
old man might want to see her about Dick's affairs; and the summons
probably meant nothing that could bring happiness. Nevertheless, having
given her promise, she was determined to go through with it.

She trembled as she approached the great house, where half the blinds
were down, and all was suggestive of neglect and decay. She had spent
some pleasant afternoons in the splendid gardens and conservatories with
Mrs. Swinton in the old days, but her one recollection of the eccentric
old man was not very encouraging. She remembered how keenly he had eyed
her, like a valuer summing up the points of a horse, and how glad she had
been to escape his penetrating scrutiny. Others were present on that
occasion. She was to face him alone now.

Mr. Trimmer met her in the hall with a face of stone, and conducted her
up to the bedroom. Her heart beat wildly until she was actually in the
room, and the little huddled-up figure on the bed came into view. Then,
she lost all her terror, and felt only pity for the shriveled, ape-like
creature.

"Sit down, Miss Dundas. It is kind of you to visit an old man. Trimmer, a
chair for Miss Dundas, close to my bed. My hearing is not what it was."

His voice was soft, and his manner genial. There was nothing at all
terrifying about him.

"You wished me to come to you?" murmured Dora.

"Trimmer, go out of the room. You needn't wait. Yes, Miss Dundas, I sent
for you. I made your acquaintance two years ago. I was only in a
bath-chair then; now,