"Hush! where is master? Can he see you?"
"Yes, he is just beyond the screen. What is the matter?"
"Turn round, and stoop; let me tie your shoe--there!"
Mrs. Carruthers stood in the doorway, and bent her head, holding her foot out, and lifting her dress. Mrs. Brookes fumbled with the shoe, as she whispered rapidly:
"Come as soon as you can to my room. Be careful that you are not missed. Some one is there who wants to see you."
"To see me, Ellen? On such a night, and at such an hour! What is wrong? Who is there?"
The old woman looked earnestly into the frightened face, bending over her, and said rather with her lips than with her voice: "Master George!"
[CHAPTER II.]
IN THE HOUSEKEEPER'S ROOM.
George Dallas had eaten but sparingly of the food which Mrs. Brookes had placed before him. He was weary and excited, and he bore the delay and the solitude of the housekeeper's room with feverish impatience. He strode up and down the room, stooping occasionally before the fire to kick at the crumbling logs, and glance at the clock, which marked how rapidly the night was waning. Half an hour, which seemed three times as much to him, had elapsed since Mis Brookes had left him. Faintly and indistinctly the sounds of the music reached him, adding to his irritation and weariness. A savage frown darkened his face, and he muttered to himself in the same tone as that of his spasmodic soliloquy in the avenue: