sorry for her. Then he groaned in spirit at the prospect of an hour's
tête-à-tête with Sir Iltyd. He liked Sir Iltyd very much, and thought
him possessed of several qualifications valuable in a father-in-law,
among them his devotion to his library; but in his present frame of
mind he felt that history and politics were topics he would like to
relegate out of existence.

He put the best face on the situation he could muster, however, and
managed to conceal from Sir Iltyd the fact that his spirits were in
other than their normal condition. The old baronet's eyes were not
very sharp, particularly when he had a cold, and he was not disposed
to notice Harold's pallor and occasional fits of abstraction, so long
as one of his favorite topics was under discussion. When Dartmouth
found that he had got safely through the dinner, he felt that he
had accomplished a feat which would have rejoiced the heart of his
grandmother, and he thought that his reward could not come a moment
too soon. Accordingly, for the first time since he had been at
Rhyd-Alwyn, he declined to sit with Sir Iltyd over the wine, and went
at once in search of Weir.

As he opened the door of the drawing-room he found the room in
semi-darkness, lighted only by the last rays of the setting sun, which
strayed through the window. He went in, but did not see Weir. She was
not in her accustomed seat by the fire, and he was about to call her
name, when he came to a sudden halt, and for the moment every faculty
but one seemed suspended. A woman was standing by the open window
looking out over the water. She had not heard him, and had not turned
her head. Dartmouth felt a certain languor, as of one who is dreaming,
and is half-conscious that he is dreaming, and therefore yields
unresistingly to the pranks of his sleeping brain. Was it Weir, or was