nsides of her eyelids so as to produce
an appearance of inflammation which no human creature but a doctor--and
that doctor at close quarters--could have detected as false. She sprang
to her feet and looked triumphantly at the hideous transformation of
herself reflected in the glass. Who could think it strange now if she
wore her veil down, and if she begged Mrs. Lecount's permission to sit
with her back to the light?

Her last proceeding was to put on the quiet gray cloak which she had
brought from Birmingham, and which had been padded inside by Captain
Wragge's own experienced hands, so as to hide the youthful grace and
beauty of her back and shoulders. Her costume being now complete, she
practiced the walk which had been originally taught her as appropriate
to the character--a walk with a slight limp--and, returning to the glass
after a minute's trial, exercised herself next in the disguise of her
voice and manner. This was the only part of the character in which
it had been possible, with her physical peculiarities, to produce an
imitation of Miss Garth; and here the resemblance was perfect. The harsh
voice, the blunt manner, the habit of accompanying certain phrases by an
emphatic nod of the head, the Northumbrian _burr_ expressing itself
in every word which contained the letter "r"--all these personal
peculiarities of the old North-country governess were reproduced to
the life. The personal transformation thus completed was literally
what Captain Wragge had described it to be--a triumph in the art of
self-disguise. Excepting the one case of seeing her face close, with
a strong light on it, nobody who now looked at Magdalen could have
suspected for an instant that she was other than an ailing, ill-made,
unattractive woman of fifty years old at least.

Before unlocking the door, she looked about her carefully, to make
sure that none of her stage materials were exposed to view in case the
landlady entered the room in her absence. The only forgotten object
belonging to her that she discovered was a little packet of Norah's
letters which she had been reading overnight, and which had been
accidentally pushed under the looking-glass while she was engaged in
dressing herself. As she took up the letters to put them away, the
thought struck her for the first time, "Would Norah know me now if
we met each other in the street?" She looked in the glass, and smiled
sadly. "No," she said, "not even Norah."

She unlocked the doo