, her chin carried high--the finest suggestion of challenge and
insolence in it--her eyes still unusually wide open and startlingly
bright.

"Richard holds a little court to-night," she continued airily, "thanks
to the storm. You also have come to seek the protection of his presence
it appears, Aunt Katherine. Indeed, I am not surprised, for you
certainly brew very wild weather at Brockhurst, at times."

Something in the young lady's bearing had restored Katherine's
self-control.

"The wind is going down," she replied calmly. "The storm need not alarm
you, or keep you watching any longer, Helen."

"Ah! pardon me--you know you are accustomed to these tempests," the
younger woman rejoined. "To me it still sounds more than sufficiently
violent."

"Yes, but merely on this side of the house, where Richard's and my
rooms are situated. The wind has shifted, and I believe on your side
you will suffer no further disturbance. You will find it quite quiet.
Then, moreover, you have to rise early to-morrow--or rather to-day. You
have a long journey before you and should secure all the rest you can."

Madame de Vallorbes gathered her silken draperies about her absently.
For a moment she looked down at the tiger-skin, then back at Lady
Calmady.

"Ah yes!" she said, "it is thoughtful of you to remind me of that.
To-day I start on my homeward journey. It should give me very much
pleasure, should it not? But--do not be shocked, Aunt Katherine--I
confess I am not altogether enraptured at the prospect. I have been too
happy, too kindly treated, here at Brockhurst, for it to be other than
a sorrow to me to depart."

She turned to Richard, her expression serious, intimate, appealing.
Then she shook back her fair head, and as though in obedience to an
irresistible movement of tenderness, stooped down swiftly over
him--seeming to drown him in the shimmering waves of some azure, and
thin, clear green, and royal, blue-purple sea--while she kissed him
full and daringly upon the mouth.

"Good-night, good-bye, dear Dickie," she said. "Yes, good-bye--for I
almost hope I may not see you in the morning. It would be a little
chilly and inadequate, any other farewell after this. I am grateful to
you.--And remember, I too am among those who, to their sorrow, never
forget."

She approached Lady Calmady, her manner natural, unabashed, playful
even, and gay.

"See, I am ready to go to bed like a good child, Aunt Katherine," she
said, "suppor