, but were
certainly badly worn. Morally, as well as physically, it must be said of
Lady Lydiard that her outward side was her worst side. The anomalies
of her dress were matched by the anomalies of her character. There were
moments when she felt and spoke as became a lady of rank; and there were
other moments when she felt and spoke as might have become the cook in
the kitchen. Beneath these superficial inconsistencies, the great heart,
the essentially true and generous nature of the woman, only waited the
sufficient occasion to assert themselves. In the trivial intercourse
of society she was open to ridicule on every side of her. But when a
serious emergency tried the metal of which she was really made, the
people who were loudest in laughing at her stood aghast, and wondered
what had become of the familiar companion of their everyday lives.

Her Ladyship's promenade had lasted but a little while, when a man in
black clothing presented himself noiselessly at the great door which
opened on the staircase. Lady Lydiard signed to him impatiently to enter
the room.

"I have been expecting you for some time, Moody," she said. "You look
tired. Take a chair."

The man in black bowed respectfully, and took his seat.

CHAPTER II.

ROBERT MOODY was at this time nearly forty years of age. He was a
shy, quiet, dark person, with a pale, closely-shaven face, agreeably
animated by large black eyes, set deep in their orbits. His mouth was
perhaps his best feature; he had firm, well-shaped lips, which softened
on rare occasions into a particularly winning smile. The whole look of
the man, in spite of his habitual reserve, declared him to be eminently
trustworthy. His position in Lady Lydiard's household was in no sense
of the menial sort. He acted as her almoner and secretary as well as her
steward--distributed her charities, wrote her letters on business, paid
her bills, engaged her servants, stocked her wine-cellar, was authorized
to borrow books from her library, and was served with his meals in his
own room. His parentage gave him claims to these special favors; he was
by birth entitled to rank as a gentleman. His father had failed at a
time of commercial panic as a country banker, had paid a good dividend,
and had died in exile abroad a broken-hearted man. Robert had tried
to hold his place in the world, but adverse fortune kept him down.
Undeserved disaster followed him from one employment to another, until
he abandon