ce. Her accustomed eyes looked
upon this incomparable, native scene that was set in the full beauty of
mid-summer's moonlight. She advanced to the broad stone steps, that
descend to the level of the lake, and, folding her arms, her hands
resting lightly upon them, stood immovable, looking northwards to the
Flamsted Hills--looking, but not seeing; for her thoughts were leaping
upwards to The Gore and its undeveloped resources; to Aurora Googe and
the part she was playing in this transitional period of Flamsted's life;
to the future years of industrial development and, in consequence, her
own increasing revenues from the quarries. She had stipulated that
evening that a clause, which would secure to her the rights of a first
stockholder, should be inserted in the articles of conveyance.

The income of eight thousand from the estate, as willed to her, had
increased under her management, aided by her ability to drive a sharp
bargain and the penuriousness which, according to Octavius, was capable
of "making a cent squeal", to twelve thousand. The sale of her north
shore lands would increase it another five thousand. Within a few years,
according to Mr. Van Ostend--and she trusted him--her dividends from her
stock would net her several thousands more. She was calculating, as she
stood there gazing northwards, unseeing, into the serene night and the
hill-peace that lay within it, how she could invest this increment for
the coming years, and casting about in her mathematically inclined mind
for means to make the most of it in interest per cent. She felt sure the
future would show satisfactory results.--And after?

That did not appeal to her.

She unfolded her arms, and gathering her skirt in both hands went down
the steps and took her stand on the lowest. She was still looking
northwards. Her skirt slipped from her left hand which she raised half
mechanically to let a single magnificent jewel, that guarded the plain
circlet of gold on her fourth finger, flash in the moonlight. She held
it raised so for a moment, watching the play of light from the facets.
Suddenly she clinched her delicate fist spasmodically; shook it forcibly
upwards towards the supreme strength of those silent hills, which, in
comparison with the human three score and ten, may well be termed
"everlasting", and, muttering fiercely under her breath, "_You_ shall
never have a penny of it!", turned, went swiftly up the steps, and
entered the house.

III

H