"Nevertheless I am tired of it."

"No?"

"I won't stay here a prisoner much longer!"

Davlin came close to her, and letting one hand rest upon her shoulder, placed the other over hers, which still lay upon the chair back.

"Cora, we won't quarrel about this. The situation is as trying to me as to you; more so. But our safety lies in moving with caution, and--I will not permit you to compromise us by any hasty act. You understand!"

His eyes held her as in a spell, and when, after a moment, the hand fell from her shoulder and his eyes withdrew their mesmeric gaze, the woman shrunk from under the one detaining hand and turned sullenly away, looking like a baffled leopardess.

Davlin resumed his seat and his former careless attitude. Cora walked to the window and looked down upon the scene below.

At length the man asked, carelessly: "Where's Percy?"

"Down there," nodding toward the terrace, a portion of which was visible from her point of view. "And, of course, my lady is in her room watching from her window. When he throws away his cigar, and turns toward the house, she will come down; not before."

Davlin laughed at her emphasis, and while the sound still vibrated on the air, the woman turned, and flinging herself upon a divan, said:

"There, she is coming!"

Complain as she might in private, Cora had acted her part to perfection. Between herself and Miss Arthur, there now existed an appearance of great cordiality and friendliness. While she treated Percy with utmost politeness and hospitality, the remembrance of ten years ago acted as an effectual bar to anything like coquetry, where he was concerned.

Scarcely had Cora settled herself comfortably upon her divan, when the door opened noiselessly, and Miss Arthur sailed in, diffusing through the room the odor of Patchouli as she came. She was, as usual, a marvel of beflounced silk, false curls, rouge, and pearl powder. Her face beamed upon Cora in friendliness as she approached her, saying, with much effusion:

"Oh, you poor child, how delightful to see you once more among us, and looking like yourself."

Lucian arose and gallantly wheeled forward a large easy chair, saying: "And how charming you look, Miss Ellen; you make poor Cora appear quite shabby by contrast."

Cora cast a rather ungrateful glance at the gentleman, and the spinster simpered, "Oh, you horrid man! Brothers are so ungrateful!"

At this juncture, as Cora had predicted, Mr. Percy presented himself, and the four fell into attitudes, in front of the grate--Percy leaning on the back of Miss Arthur's chair, and Cora and Davlin in their former places.

"_Merci_," said Miss Arthur, pretending to stifle a yawn, "why can't we all be out in this keen air and sunshine? If there were but snow on the ground!"

"Snow!" cried Cora, annoyed out of her usual assumption of feebleness; "don't mention it, if you don't want me to die. We won't have snow, if you please, until I can drive in a cutter."

Percy laughed softly; his laugh was always disagreeable to Cora, as having an undercurrent of meaning intended for her alone. And Davlin said:

"Hear and heed, all ye gods of the wind and weather."

"Well, laugh," said Cora, half laughing herself, "but I am beginning to feel ambitious. Do let's try to set something afoot to make us feel as if we were alive, and glad that we were."

"Agreed, Cora," cried Miss Arthur, gushingly, "only tell us what it shall be."

"Suggest, suggest;" this from Davlin.

The spinster glanced up coquettishly, "Edward, you suggest."

Percy caressed his blonde whiskers thoughtfully, and letting his eyes rest carelessly on Cora, said, meaningly: "Let's poison each other!"

"Or commit suicide!" retorted Cora, coolly.

"Let's be more sensible," said Davlin. "Let's organize a matrimonial society, get up a wedding, and go on a journey."

"Anything that will break the monotony," said Cora, while the fair spinster giggled and put her hands before her face.

At that moment the monotony _was_ broken.

While the words were still lingering on the lips of the fair convalescent, the door was opened wide by old Hagar, who said, as if she had been all her life announcing the arrival of great ones at the court of St. James:

"_Miss Madeline Payne!_"

Then she stepped back, and a vision appeared before them which struck them dumb and motionless with surprise.

Across the threshold swept a young lady, richly robed in trailing silk and velvet and fur; with a face fair as a star-flower, haughty as the face of any duchess; with amber eyes that gazed upon them contemptuously, masterfully, fearlessly; with wave upon wave of golden brown hair, clustering about the temples and snowy neck; and with scarlet lips half parted in a scornful smile.

She swept the length of the room with matchless grace and self-possession, and pausing before the astonished group, said, in a voice clear as the chime of silver bells:

"Good-evening, ladies and gentlemen! I believe I have not the honor of knowing--ah, yes, this is Miss Arthur; _Aunt Ellen_, how do you do?"

There are some scenes that beggar description, and this was such an one.

[Illustration: "_Miss Madeline Payne!_"--page 346.]

Miss Arthur, who clearly recognized in this lovely young lady the little Madeline of years ago, was so stricken with astonishment that she utterly forgot how appropriate it would be to faint.

Cora sat like one in a nightmare.

Percy was conscious of but one feeling. True to his nature even here, he was staring at this vision of beauty, thinking only, "how lovely!

how lovely!"

And Lucian Davlin? At the first sight of that face, the first sound of that voice, he had felt as if turning to stone, incapable of movement or speech. At that moment, had Cora once glanced toward him, his face must have betrayed his secret. But her eyes were fixed on Madeline.

Davlin felt a tempest raging within his bosom. Madeline alive! This glowing, brilliant, richly robed, queenly creature--Madeline! Again in his ears rang her farewell words. Quick as lightning came the thought: she was his enemy, she would denounce him! And yet, throughout every fiber of his being, he felt a thrill of gladness. Again there surged in his heart the mad love that had sprung into being when she had so gloriously defied him. She was not dead, and he was glad!

Old Hagar had closed the door after her young mistress; and now she stood near it, calm and immovable as a block of ice.

Madeline Payne stood, for a moment, gazing laughingly into the amazed face of the spinster. Then she said: "Come, come, Aunt Ellen, don't stare at me as if I were a ghost! Introduce me to your friends. Is this lady my new step-mamma?"

Cora roused herself from her stupor, and said, haughtily: "I am _Mrs.

Arthur_, and the mistress of the house!"

"Ah! then you _are_ my new step-mamma? And you have been very ill, I understand. Pray, don't rise, madame; you look feeble." Then, turning again to Miss Arthur: "Don't you intend to speak to me, Aunt Ellen?"

"But," gasped the spinster, "I thought, that--you--"

"Oh, I see! You thought that I was dead, and you have been grieving for me. Well, I will explain: I ran away from my respected papa because he had selected for me a husband not at all to my taste. Not desiring to return immediately, I seized an opportunity that came in my way, and bestowed my name upon a poor girl who died in the hospital, thus making sure that my anxious friends would abandon all search for me. However, I have thought better of my decision, and so I return to my own home to take my position under the _chaperonage_ of my pretty step-mamma, as the _Heiress of Oakley_!"