"By Jove! and of me, too, if I don't get out of this."

"We must get rid of her."

"How?"

"I don't know--somehow, anyhow."

"And then?"

"And then--" she gave him a side glance, and laughed unpleasantly.

"And then? You have a plan, my blonde. Out with it; I am a listener."

And he did listen.

Slowly down the hedgerow path they paced, and at the end, halted and stood for a time in earnest consultation. There was some difference of opinion, but the difference became adjusted. And they turned toward the house, evidently satisfied with the result of the morning's consultation.

Not long after, Miss Arthur's maid returned also.

"I see by the papers that Dr. LeGuise has come back from Europe, Cora," announced Mr. Davlin from his seat at the lunch table that day.

"Dr. LeGuise! how delightful! Now one will not be afraid to be sick--our old family physician, you know," to Miss Arthur; "and _so_ skillful. He has been in Europe a year. The dear man, how I long to see him!"

"Well!" laughed Lucian, "I will carry him any amount of affection, providing it is not too bulky. I find that I must run up to the city to-morrow, and of course will look him up."

"Oh!" eagerly, "and find out if he saw the D'Arcys in Paris; and those delightful Trevanions!" Then, regretfully, "can't you stay another week, dear?"

"Out of the question, Co., much as I regret it," glancing expressively at Miss Arthur. "But I shan't forget you all."

"Pray do not," simpered the spinster. "And when do you return?"

"Not for two or three weeks, I fear. But rest assured I shall lose no time, when once I am at liberty."

During his lazy, good-humored moments, Mr. Davlin had made most ridiculous love to Miss Arthur, and that lady had not been behind in doing her part. Now, strange to say, the face which she bent over her napkin wore upon it a look, not of sorrow, but of relief. And why?

CHAPTER XIV.

WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS.

"Take especial care with my toilet this morning, Celine," drawled Miss Arthur, as she sat before a mirror in her luxuriously appointed dressing-room.

Wise Cora had seen the propriety of giving to this unwelcome sister-in-law with the heavy purse, apartments of the best in the newly fitted-up portion of the mansion.

"I want you to be _especially_ careful with my hair and complexion,"

Miss Arthur continued.

"Yes, mademoiselle," demurely. Then, as if the information might bear upon the question of the toilet, "Does mademoiselle know that Monsieur Davlin left an hour ago?"

"Certainly, Celine, but I expect a visitor. He may arrive at any time to-day, and you must do your very best with my toilet."

"Mademoiselle _est charmante_; slight need of Celine's poor aid,"

cooed the little hypocrite, and the toilet proceeded.

At length, the resources of art having been exhausted, Miss Arthur stood up, and approved of Celine's handiwork.

"I really do look nicely, Celine; you have done well, very. Now go send me a pot of chocolate and a bit of toast."

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"And a bit of chicken, or a bird's wing."

"Oui."

"And a French roll, Celine, with perhaps an omelette."

"Pardonne, mademoiselle, but might I suggest we must not forget this,"

touching Miss Arthur's tightly laced waist.

"True, Celine, quite right; the toast, then. And, Celine, remain down-stairs and when Mr. Percy comes," (her maid visibly started at the name) "show him into the little parlor, and tell him I am somewhere in the grounds--you understand? Then come and let me know. I prefer to have him fancy me surprised, you see," smiling playfully.

"I see; mademoiselle has _such_ tact," and the French maid disappeared.

"Mr. Percy?" muttered the French maid, in very English accents; "I will certainly look for your coming, Mr. Percy. Can it be that I am to meet you at last?"

Mrs. John Arthur was restless that morning. She fidgeted about after the departure of her brother; tried to play the agreeable to her husband, but finding this a difficult task, left him to his cigar and his morning paper, in the solitude of his sanctum, and seizing her crimson shawl, started out for a turn upon the terrace.

The "little parlor," as it was called, commanded a view of one end of the terrace walk, but no portion of it was visible from the immediate front of Oakley mansion, the terrace running across the grounds in the rear of the dwelling, and being shut off from the front by a thicket of flowering shrubs and trees.

The hall facing the front entrance to Oakley was deserted now, save for the figure of Celine Leroque, who was ensconsed in one of the windows thereof. She had been watching there for more than an hour, and Cora had promenaded the terrace half that time, when a gentleman approached the mansion from the front gate-way.

Celine's eyes were riveted upon the coming figure, as it appeared and disappeared among the trees and shrubbery along the winding walk. At length he emerged into open space and approached nearer.

Celine Leroque suppressed a cry of astonishment as she anticipated his ring and ushered him in. A very blonde man, with the lower half of his face covered with a mass of yellow waving beard; pale blue, searching, unfathomable eyes; pale yellow hair; a handsome face, the face she had seen pictured in Claire's souvenir!

Celine Leroque led the way toward the little parlor with a heart beating rapidly.

"Miss Arthur is in the grounds," she said, in answer to his inquiry.

"I will go look for her;" and she turned away.

Mr. Percy placed his hat upon a little table and tossing back his fair hair, said: "I think I can see her now."

Approaching the window he looked down upon the terrace.

Celine looked, too, and catching a gleam of crimson, said: "That is not Miss Arthur."