been the very tonic I require. Sir Andrew Clarke could not prescribe
better, but it is too late now, its a horrible bore to go up to
Northumberland and the 'Towers' alone, though when one has had as much
trouble with one's tenants as I, one must victimise oneself, I
suppose. 'Tis a grand old place, picturing as it does the feudal
times, if only it were not so desolate. I wonder what Lady Esmondet or
Vaura would think of it, how lovely she would look standing in the
Tower windows with the fresh air blowing her beautiful hair and her
gown close about her; but I forget it is late, and I am dreaming, her
hair will be confined in some womanly fashion and she is not for me,
no, Mars, you and I are lonely wanderers," and the dog is patted, the
lights are out while the weary man throws himself on his couch to pass
a restless night with heavy sleep at sunrise.




CHAPTER IV.

OF MADAME.


At eleven o'clock the following day Mrs. Tompkins leisurely sips her
cocoa as she breaks her fast in the pretty morning room at No. ----
Eaton Square, her step-daughter, an American born and bred, is her
companion, a tiny young woman all pale tints, colourless face, sharp
features, sharp little eyes always watery, always with a red rim about
them giving the paleness of their blue a pink shade. When off guard
the mouth is resolute, the eyes wearing a stealthy cunning look; the
mask on, 'tis an old-child face with a wondering expression of