goods.

It was early when I arrived. The Colonel and some of the men were still
out on the moors, but a few guests were sitting about in the big, cool
entrance hall, waiting for tea. Among them were Mrs. Vansome and her
son, to both of whom I was at once presented. They happened to be the
only Catholics of the house party. We chatted amicably for some time,
until the dressing-bell broke up the gathering for the nonce.

I happened to remain for a few minutes in the hall after the rest had
left; I wanted to look into a paper which was there, and I knew my room
from previous visits. The staircase ran along two sides of the hall and
led to a broad corridor, upon which the rooms opened. Another passage at
right angles joined this corridor, and to reach my room I had to pass by
the end of it.

It was just between daylight and dusk, on a September evening, and no
lamps were yet needed. As I passed the passage on my way I saw an
elderly lady coming toward the main corridor. I am no great observer of
feminine costume--perhaps because I am not much in ladies' company, or,
it may be, because I never had a sister to instruct me; I can only say of
this lady's dress, therefore, that it struck me as differing from those I
had lately seen in the hall, both in fashion and material. I remember
hearing a rustling as of silk, and I think there was some white lace
about the neck and hair.

But what struck me most was the woman's face. I had looked in her
direction, lest I might seem discourteous to some acquaintance; but this
was a stranger. The face was that of a woman in an agony of suffering!
The wide-open eyes were full of trouble; the whole countenance expressed