ford, but we call
her Corrie."

As she spoke we came in sight of The Towers--a large, four-winged
mansion, with pepper box turrets, oriel windows, a square lawn, and many
tree-lined walks.

"Home," said Maura, and in a few minutes I found myself in the large
warm hall, bright with firelight, and sweet with autumn flowers.

Standing by a table, and turning over the leaves of a book, stood a
graceful woman in fawn and cream, who turned round upon our entrance,
saying:

"There is tea on the way, you will take some?"

"Thank you, princess, yes, directly we come down," said Maura, and then
she added: "See, I have brought an old friend to see you, Gloria,
Princess Milontine."

The foreign lady held out her hand, and as I took it I found myself
almost involuntarily murmuring, "Nadine." For the dark pathetic eyes of
the Russian princess were those of the mysterious foreigner who had
lodged in Cherry-Tree Avenue. She kissed me (foreign fashion) on both
cheeks, and as she did so whispered: "Hush! let the dead past sleep."

Wondering much, I held my peace and went to inspect the sunshine of
Whichello Towers, the pretty dimpled Corrie; and though I forgot the
incident during the evening, I remembered it when I found myself in my
own room.

Why had Nadine lived in the mean street with the so-called woodcarver
and his wife? She was a widow, true, but widows of rank do not usually
lodge in such humble places for pleasure. Then again, what was the
mystery attaching to Irene? Would the tangled skein ever be unravelled?
Time would show.

Whichello Towers was more than a great house, it was a home, a northern
liberty hall, surrounded by woods and big breezy moors. There was
something for every one in this broad domain. A fine library full of
rare editions of rare books, a museum of natural history specimens, a
gallery of antiquities, a lake on which to skate or row, preserves in
which to shoot, a grand ball-room with an old-world polished floor, a
long corridor full of pictures and articles of vertu, and a beautiful
music-room.

Princess Nadine and I were much together, we talked of her little
sister's school-days, but never of her latter ones, the subject was
evidently tabooed.

General Trakoff (a stern, military man who had once been governor of the
penal settlement of O----) was evidently devoted to the beautiful Russ,
and I found myself hoping that she would not become "Madame la
Generale," for though the general was t