w, goodnight. I'm going back to Tester. He's
stone deaf, and he's waiting up for me. Good-night--good-night. No,
Loftus, I won't injure you. I injure those I hate, not those I love."

She kissed her hand to him. He tried to catch the slim fingers to press
them to his lips, but with a gay laugh she vanished, shutting the lodge
door after her. Loftus Bertram walked up the avenue with the queerest
sensation of terror and rejoicing.

CHAPTER XV.

JOSEPHINE LOOKED DANGEROUS.

In those days after her mysterious and secret visit to London Mrs.
Bertram was a considerably altered woman. All her life hitherto she had
enjoyed splendid health; she was unacquainted with headaches; neuralgia,
rheumatism, gout, the supposed banes of the present day, never troubled
her.

Now, however, she had absolutely an attack of the nerves. Mabel found
her mother, on coming to wish her good-morning one day, shivering so
violently that she could not complete her dressing. Loftus was not at
home. He had rejoined his regiment for a brief spell, so Catherine and
Mabel had to act on their own responsibility.

They did not hesitate to send for the local doctor.

Dr. Morris, who was calmly shaving in his bedroom was very much excited
when his wife rushed in to tell him that he was summoned in haste to the
Manor.

"And you might peep into the Manor drawing-room on your way downstairs,
doctor," whispered the good lady, in her muffled tone, "and find out if
the carpet is really felt. Mrs. Gorman Stanley swears that it is, but
for my part I can scarce give credence to such an unlikely story, for
surely no woman who could only afford a felt covering for the floor of
her best sitting-room would give herself the airs Mrs. Bertram has
done."

"Just see that my black bag is ready, Jessie," was the husband's retort
to this tirade. "And you might hurry John round with the pony-chaise."

Dr. Morris felt intensely proud as he drove off to see his august
patient. He drew up his rough pony once or twice to announce the fact to
any stray passer-by.

"Good-day, Bell,--fine morning, isn't it? I'm just off to the Manor.
Mrs. B. not quite the thing. Ah, I see Mrs. Jenkins coming down the
street. I must tell her that I can't look in this morning."

He nodded to Mr. Bell, and drove on until he met the angular lady known
by this name.

"Good-morning, good-morning," he called in his cheery tones, and
scarcely drawing in the pony at all now. "I meant to l