was listening for the sound of the motor, and presently
she heard it buzzing up the drive, followed by hasty footsteps and the
murmur of subdued voices.

When Celia's dinner was brought into the little room behind the library,
which was now recognized as her own, Mrs. Dexter appeared for a moment.
She was quite calm now, but looked rather tired.

"Everything is all right?" said Celia, sympathetically.

"Yes, my dear," responded Mrs. Dexter, with a little sigh of relief, as
she smoothed her black silk dress. "It's as well that we were all ready;
though this is the shortest notice we've ever had."

"I hope the Marquess is well," said Celia.

Mrs. Dexter shook her head, and sighed again. "I'm afraid not," she
said, gravely; "indeed, he is looking ill; though not so much ill as
tired and worried. He has changed greatly since he was last here, and
looks years and years older. When I last saw him, his lordship was in
the Government, which means, as I dare say you know, a great deal of
work and responsibility; but he was quite cheerful then, and strong;
now----" She paused, and added, "He ought not to be so worried; but
perhaps it's Lord Heyton--he's always been a trouble to his father, I'm
sorry to say. But now he's married, I should have thought that he would
have settled down and not have caused his father any further anxiety.
The Marquess tells me that Lord Heyton is coming down with his bride in
a day or two."

As Mrs. Dexter was departing, Celia said, a little shyly:

"Is there any way out of this room except through the library and the
hall? I don't want to disturb the Marquess."

"There is no other door but this one," replied Mrs. Dexter. "You see,
it's only a kind of ante-room. But you need not be afraid of disturbing
his lordship; he will be sure to go to the drawing-room or his own
sitting-room, after he has had his dinner. Though there's no cause for
you to be nervous at meeting his lordship, for he's one of the kindest
of men, especially to anyone in his service."

Celia ate her dinner and returned to the library, where she worked for a
couple of hours to make up for the time she had lost in the afternoon;
then she took up an exquisitely-bound copy of Spenser's "Faerie Queene"
and settled herself in a chair for half an hour's quiet reading. But the
great masterpiece could not hold her attention; she let it lie on her
lap and thought of her adventures of the day; she tried not to dwell on
Susie's tragedy,