wheels. Evidently a carriage--a caller. Netta's pulse fluttered. She ran
into the house by a side door, and up to her room, where she smoothed
her hair anxiously, and lightly powdered her face. There was no time to
change her dress, but she took out a feather boa which she kept for great
occasions, and prepared to descend with dignity. Oh the stairs she met
Mrs. Dixon, who announced "Lady Tatham."

"Find Mr. Melrose, please."

"Oh, he's there, Ma'am, awready."

Netta entered the drawing-room to see her husband pacing up and-down
before a strange lady, who sat in one of the crimson armchairs, entirely
at her ease.

"So this is your wife, Edmund," said Lady Tatham, as she rose.

"It is. You'll make mock of her no doubt--as you do of me."

"Nonsense! I never make mock of anybody," said a musical voice, rich
however through all its music in a rather formidable significance. The
owner of it turned toward Netta.

"I hope, Mrs. Melrose, that you will like Cumbria?"

Netta, accustomed to Edmund's "queerness," and determined to hold her
own, settled herself deliberately opposite her visitor, and was soon
complaining in her shrill voice of the loneliness of the place and the
damp of the climate. Melrose never once looked at his wife. He was
paler than usual, with an eager combative aspect, quite new to Netta. He