form
which only calls forth strong and vehement expression. Her figure, which
wanted only height to give it dignity, was arrayed in the garb of
widowhood; and if she exhibited none of the desolation of heart which
such a bereavement might have been expected to awaken, she was evidently
a prey to feelings scarcely less harrowing. At the particular time of
which we speak, Lady Rookwood, for she it was, was occupied in the
investigation of the contents of an escritoire. Examining the papers
which it contained with great deliberation, she threw each aside, as
soon as she had satisfied herself of its purport, until she arrived at a
little package, carefully tied up with black ribbon, and sealed. This,
Lady Rookwood hastily broke open, and drew forth a small miniature. It
was that of a female, young and beautiful, rudely, yet faithfully,
executed--faithfully, we say, for there was an air of sweetness and
simplicity--and, in short, a look of reality and nature about the
picture (it is seldom, indeed, that we mistake a likeness, even if we
are unacquainted with the original) that attested the artist's fidelity.
The face was as radiant with smiles as a bright day with sunbeams. The
portrait was set in gold, and behind it was looped a lock of the darkest
and finest hair. Underneath the miniature was written, in Sir Piers's
hand, the words "_Lady Rookwood_." A slip of folded paper was also
attached to it.

Lady Rookwood scornfully scrutinized the features for a few moments, and
then unfolded the paper, at the sight of which she started, and turned
pale. "Thank God!" she cried, "this is in my possession--while I hold
this, we are safe. Were it not better to destroy this evidence at once?
No, no, not _now_--it shall not part from me. I will abide Ranulph's
return. This document will give me a power over him such as I could
never otherwise obtain." Placing the marriage certificate, for such it
was, within her breast, and laying the miniature upon the table, she
next proceeded, deliberately, to arrange the disordered contents of the
box.

All outward traces of emotion had, ere this, become so subdued in Lady
Rookwood, that although she had, only a few moments previously,
exhibited the extremity of passionate indignation, she now, apparently
without effort, resumed entire composure, and might have been supposed
to be engaged in a matter of little interest to herself. It was a dread
calm, which they who knew her would have trembled to