uch a time. But it was in her nature to
rule--she could not help making her influence felt wherever she went,
and the reins of government fell naturally into her hands as soon as she
appeared upon the scene. She was the General's junior by five years
only, and had always looked on Sydney and his wife as poor,
irresponsible, frivolous young creatures, quite incapable of managing
their own affairs. A difference of opinion on this point had driven her
to London, where she had a nice little house in Kensington, and was
great on committees and boards of management. But real sorrow chased all
considerations of her own dignity or comfort from her mind. She hurried
down to Beechfield as soon as she knew of her brother's need; and during
the weary days and weeks between Sydney's death and Westwood's trial,
she had been invaluable as a friend, helper, and capable mistress of the
disorganised household.

She sat one June morning at the head of the breakfast-table in the
dining-room at Beechfield Hall, with an unaccustomed look of
dissatisfaction and perplexity upon her handsome resolute face. Miss
Vane was a woman of fifty, but her black hair showed scarcely a line of
silver, and her brown eyes were as keen and bright as they had ever
been. With her smooth, unwrinkled forehead, her colorless but healthy
complexion, and her thin well-braced figure, she looked ten years
younger than her age. Not often was her composure disturbed, but on this
occasion trouble and anxiety were both evinced by the knitting of her
brows and the occasional twitching of her usually firm lips. She sat
behind the coffee-urn, but she had finished her own breakfast long
since, and was now occupying her ever-busy fingers with some knitting
until her brother should appear. But her hands were unsteady, and at
last, with an exclamation of disgust, she laid down her knitting-pins,
and crossed the long white fingers closely over one another in her lap.

"Surely Hubert got my telegram!" she murmured to herself. "I wish he
would come--oh, how I wish that he would come!"

She moved in her seat so as to be able to see the marble clock on the
massive oak mantelpiece. The hands pointed to the hour of nine. Miss
Vane rose and looked out of the window.

"He might have taken the early train from town. If he had, he would be
here by this time. But no doubt he did not think it worth while. 'An old
woman's fancy!' he said to himself perhaps. Hubert was never very
tolerant