with marked distrust on either side. Few people could have failed to
see what the stranger and the friend had noticed alike--that there was
something smoldering under the surface here. Miss Silvester spoke first.

"Thank you, Lady Lundie," she said. "I would rather not play."

Lady Lundie assumed an extreme surprise which passed the limits of
good-breeding.

"Oh, indeed?" she rejoined, sharply. "Considering that we are all here
for the purpose of playing, that seems rather remarkable. Is any thing
wrong, Miss Silvester?"

A flush appeared on the delicate paleness of Miss Silvester's face.
But she did her duty as a woman and a governess. She submitted, and so
preserved appearances, for that time.

"Nothing is the matter," she answered. "I am not very well this morning.
But I will play if you wish it."

"I do wish it," answered Lady Lundie.

Miss Silvester turned aside toward one of the entrances into the
summer-house. She waited for events, looking out over the lawn, with a
visible inner disturbance, marked over the bosom by the rise and fall of
her white dress.

It was Blanche's turn to select the next player.

In some preliminary uncertainty as to her choice she looked about among