Crichton
in the old Northampton days, and reflecting with gratification on the
vast change which had come upon her life and her mind since she
followed Mr. Yabsley's spiritual direction. Startled, she gazed at the
speaker.

"How odd that you should have remembered his name!"

"Not at all. I heard it so often when you first came here."

"Did you?" said May, pretending to be amused. "Mr. Yabsley is a
remarkable man, and I value his friendship. You remind me that I really
ought to write to him."

Constance seemed to lose all her interest in the matter, and spoke of
something trivial.

In the course of the morning there happened a singular thing.

Lady Ogram rose earlier than usual. Before leaving her room, she read
in the _Hollingford Express_ all about the sudden death of Mr. Robb.
The event had kept her awake all night. Though on the one side a
disappointment, for of late she had counted upon Robb's defeat at the
next election as an all but certain thing, the fact that she had
outlived her enemy, that he lay, as it were, at her feet, powerless
ever again to speak an insulting word, aroused all the primitive
instincts of her nature. With the exultation of a savage she gloated
over the image of Robb stricken to the ground. Through the hours of
darkness, she now and then sang to herself, and the melodies were those
she had known when a girl, or a child, common songs of the street. It
was her chant of victory and revenge.

Having risen, she went into the drawing-room on the same floor as her
bedchamber, and summoned two menservants. After her first serious
illness, she had for a time been carried up and down stairs in a chair
made for that purpose; she now bade her attendants fetch the chair, and
convey her to the top story of the house. It was done. In her hand she
had a key, and with this she unlocked the door of that room which had
been closed for half a century. Having stood alone within the garret
for a few minutes, she called to the men, who, on entering, looked with
curiosity at dust-covered forms in clay and in marble. Their mistress
pointed to a bust which stood on a wooden pedestal some three feet high.

"You are to clean that. Bring water and soap. I will wait here whilst
you do it."

The task was quickly performed; the marble shone once more, and its
pedestal of lustrous black looked little the worse for long seclusion.
Lady Ogram sat with her eyes fixed upon the work of art, and for a
minute or two n