It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. One of her duties, after she had been taught to read, had been to read aloud after breakfast and before going to bed. ” “Is it necessary,” he said, “for me to tell you——” “Stop, please,” she said firmly. ‘Like a vision she were. “Here goes,” he said. ” “Lady Ferringhall—alone?” Ennison exclaimed. ” She made her glasses glint. She spoke slowly.
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