recent construction of a large paper-mill, as ugly as mill can be,
on what was once a delightful meadow by the waterside. Dyce eyed the
blot resentfully; but he had begun to think of his attitude and
language at the meeting with Lady Ogram, and the gates of Rivenoak
quickly engaged his attention.

The drive wound through a pleasant little park, less extensive,
perhaps, than the visitor had preconceived it, and circled in front
of a plain Georgian mansion, which, again, caused some
disappointment. Dyce had learnt from the directory that the house
was not very old, but it was spoken of as "stately;" the edifice
before him he would rather have described as "commodious." He caught
a glimpse of beautiful gardens, and had no time to criticise any
more, for the fly stopped and the moment of his adventure was at
hand. When he had mechanically paid and dismissed the driver, the
folding doors stood open before him; a man-servant, with back at the
reverent angle, on hearing his name at once begged him to enter.
Considerably more nervous than he would have thought likely, and
proportionately annoyed with himself, Dyce passed through a bare,
lofty hall, then through a long library, and was ushered into a room
so largely constructed of glass, and containing so much verdure,
that at first glance it seemed to be a conservatory. It was,
however, a drawing-room, converted to this purpose after having
served, during the late Baronet's lifetime, for such masculine
delights as billiards and smoking. Here, as soon as his vision
focussed itself, Dyce became aware of three ladies and a gentleman,
seated amid a little bower of plants and shrubs. The hostess was
easily distinguished. In a very high-backed chair, made rather
throne-like by the embroidery and gilding upon it, sat a meagre lady
clad in black silk, with a silvery grey shawl about her shoulders,