the green
seaside woodlands, Colonel Joclyn and his little daughter came home.

Early on the day succeeding his arrival, Colonel Jocyln rode though the
bright spring sunshine, along the pleasant high road between Jocyln Hall
and Thetford Towers. He had met the late Sir Noel and his bride once or
twice previous to his departure for India; but there had been no
acquaintance sufficiently close to warrant this speedy call.

Lady Thetford, sitting alone in her boudoir, yawning the weary hours
away over a book, looked in surprise at the card the servant brought
her.

"Colonel Jocyln," she said, "I did not even know he had arrived. And to
call so soon--ah! perhaps he fetches me letters from India."

She rose at the thought, her pale cheeks flushing a little with
expectation. Mail after mail had arrived from that distant land,
bringing her no letter from Captain Everard.

Lady Thetford descended at once. She had few callers; but was always
exquisitely dressed, and ready to receive at a moment's notice. Colonel
Jocyln, tall and sallow, and soldierly, rose at her entrance.

"Lady Thetford? Ah, yes! Most happy to see your ladyship once more.
Permit me to apologize for this very early call--you will overlook my
haste when you hear my reason."

Lady Thetford held out her white hand.

"Allow me to welcome you back to England, Colonel Jocyln. You have come
to remain this time, I hope. And little Aileen is well, I trust?"

"Very well, and very glad to be released from shipboard. I need not ask
for young Sir Rupert--I saw him with his nurse in the park as I rode up.
A fine boy, and like you my lady."

"Yes, Rupert is like me. And now--how are our mutual friends in India?"

The momentous question she had been longing to ask from the first, but
her well-trained voice spoke it as steadily as though it had been a
question of the weather.

Colonel Jocyln's face darkened.

"I bring bad news from India, my lady, Captain Everard was a friend of
yours?"

"Yes; he left his little daughter in my charge."

"I know. You have not heard from him lately?"

"No; and I have been rather anxious. Nothing has befallen the captain, I
hope?"

The well-trained voice shook a little despite its admirable training,
and the slender fingers looped and unlooped nervously her watch-chain.

"Yes, Lady Thetford, the very worst that could befall him. George
Everard is dead."

There was a blank pause. Colonel Jocyln looked grave, and downcast, and