'Deb will be getting her palpitation of the heart, nervous attacks, low spirits, and the devil only knows all what more, on the head of this!' he muttered with a malediction.
Hawkey had watched her retire through the deep old doorway (under the lintel of which tall Cardinal Beatoun had whilom stooped his head) and disappear along the stately corridor beyond. Then he dropped into an easy-chair—stirred the fire restlessly and impatiently, and drained his glass, only to refill it—his face the while fraught with rage and mischief.
He drew a letter or two from a drawer—they were from his sister—and he proceeded to study her signature with much artistic acumen and curiosity.
'Needs must when the devil drives!' said he, grinding his teeth and biting his spiky nails; 'I have done it—and that she'll know in time!'
Done what?
That the reader will know in time too.
CHAPTER LIV.
THE LONG-SUSPENDED SWORD.
Sorrow is said to make people sometimes, to a certain extent, selfish; thus sorrow in her own little secluded home was, ere long, to render Hester, for a space at least, less thoughtful of the grief which affected her cousin Maude.
Hester was somewhat changed, and knew within herself that it was so.