ood in his veins, or seemed so to freeze it--a shriek of agony, and in
a woman's voice. It rang out from an open window near his own. The sound
seemed close to his ear.

CHAPTER X.

'O BITTERNESS OF THINGS TOO SWEET.'

Only for an instant did John Hammond stand motionless after hearing that
unearthly shriek. In the next moment he rushed into the corridor,
expecting to hear the sound repeated, to find himself face to face with
some midnight robber, whose presence had caused that wild cry of alarm.
But in the corridor all was silent as the grave. No open door suggested
the entrance of an intruder. The dimly-burning lamps showed only the
long empty gallery. He stood still for a few moments listening for
voices, footsteps, the rustle of garments: but there was nothing.

Nothing? Yes, a groan, a long-drawn moaning sound, as of infinite pain.
This time there was no doubt as to the direction from which the sound
came. It came from Lady Maulevrier's room. The door was ajar, and he
could see the faint light of the night-lamp within. That fearful cry had
come from her ladyship's room. She was in peril or pain of some kind.

Convinced of this one fact, Mr. Hammond had not an instant's hesitation.
He pushed open the door without compunction, and entered the room,
prepared to behold some terrible scene.

But all was quiet as death itself. No midnight burglar had violated the
sanctity of Lady Maulevrier's apartment. The soft, steady light of the
night-lamp shone on the face of the sleeper. Yes, all was quiet in the
room, but not in that sleeper's soul. The broad white brow was painfully
contracted, the lips drawn down and distorted, the delicate hand, half
hidden by the deep Valenciennes ruffle, clutched the coverlet with
convulsive force. Sigh after sigh burst from the agitated breast. John
Hammond gazed upon the sleeper in an agony of apprehension, uncertain
what to do. Was this dreaming only; or was it some kind of seizure which
called for medical aid? At her ladyship's age the idea of paralysis was
not too improbable for belief. If this was a dream, then indeed the
visions of Lady Maulevrier's head upon her bed were more terrible than
the dreams of common mortals.

In any case Mr. Hammond felt that it was his duty to send some attendant
to Lady Maulevrier, some member of the household who was familiar with
her ladyship's habits, her own maid if that person could be unearthed
easily. He knew that the servants slept