She lingered by the window, fascinated by the brilliancy of the rising
September moon. As she stood there, the nursery door opened, and Miss
Catheron entered.

"You here," she said, coolly; "I didn't know it. I wanted Victor. I
thought I heard his voice. And how is the heir of Catheron Royals?"

She bent, with her usual slight, chill smile over the crib of that
young gentleman, and regarded him in his sleep. The nurse, listening
in the dusk, she did not perceive.

"By the bye, I wonder if he _is_ the heir of Catheron Royals though?
I am reading up the Scottish Law of Marriage, and really I have my
doubts. If you are Juan's wife, you can't be Sir Victor's,
consequently the legitimacy of his son may yet be--"

She never finished the sentence. It was the last drop in the brimming
cup--the straw that broke the camel's back--the one insult of all
others not to be borne. With eyes afire in the dusk, Sir Victor's wife
confronted her.

"You have uttered your last affront, Inez Catheron," she exclaimed.
"You will never utter another beneath this roof. To-morrow you leave
it! I am Sir Victor Catheron's wife, the mistress of Catheron Royals,
and this is the last night it shall ever shelter you. Go!" She threw
open the nursery door. "When my husband returns either you or I leave
this house forever!"

The nurse was absolutely forgotten. For a second even Inez Catheron