looking at the outside of Lord
Dymchurch's letter, and wondering what might be its contents. Beyond a
doubt, they were of an explosive nature. Whatever his excuse, Lord
Dymchurch's abrupt departure would enrage Lady Ogram. Had he been
refused by May? Or had something come to pass which made it impossible
for him to offer marriage something connected with Lashmar's early
visit this morning? That he had intended a proposal, Constance could
not doubt. Meanwhile, she felt glad of the outbreak in prospect; her
mood desired tumultuous circumstances. What part she herself would play
in to-day's drama, she had not vet decided; that must largely depend
upon events. Her future was involved in the conflict of passions and
designs which would soon be at its height. How much it would have
helped her could she have read through the envelope now in her hand!

There came a knock to the door. Lady Ogram wished to speak with Miss
Bride.

It was the rarest thing for the secretary to be summoned to her
ladyship's bedroom. In the ante-chamber, the maid encountered her.

"My lady means to get up," whispered this discreet attendant. "She
thinks herself very much better, but I am sure she is very ill indeed.
I know the signs. The doctor forbade her to move, but I durstn't oppose
her."

"Does she know that Lord Dymchurch has gone?" asked Constance.

"No, miss. I thought it better to say nothing just yet. Everything
excites her so."

"You were very wise. Keep silence about it until Lady Ogram leaves her
room."

"My lady has just asked for her letters, miss."

"Bring up those that have come by post. I will deliver the other
myself."

Constance entered the bedroom. With cheeks already touched into ghastly
semblance of warm life, with her surprising hair provisionally rolled
into a diadem, the old autocrat lay against upright pillows. At sight
of Constance, she raised her skeleton hand, and uttered a croak of
triumph.

"Do you know the news?" followed in scarce articulate utterance.
"Robb's will! Nothing to the hospital--not a penny for town charities."

Constance affected equal rejoicing, for she knew how the singular old
philanthropist had loathed the thought that Hollingford's new hospital
might bear Robb's name instead of her own.

"But I beg you not to excite yourself," she added. "Try to think
quietly--"

"Mind your own business!" broke in the thick voice, whilst the dark
eyes flashed with exultation. "I want to know about