Om her forehead, smiled at her fright, and sat down again, with an
attempt at self-control, to look through the drawers thoroughly. As she
went on, the tremor returned, and before she had finished the fruitless
search her heart beat so as to stop her breath; she gasped in an agony
that the soul rarely feels more than once in this life. She shut up the
drawers, walked up and down the room, noticed with a shudder her own
changed expression as she passed before the mirror, and strove in vain
to give some order to her confused and tumultuous thoughts. At length
she sat down exhausted. She was startled by a knock. Opening the door,
there in a newly-furbished suit, with clean linen, and a brown wig worn
for the first time on his hitherto shining head, stood Theophilus Clamp.
He had even picked a blossom from the geranium in the hall and was
toying with it like a bashful boy. "A fine day, Ma'am!" said he, as he
took a seat. "Yes, very," she answered, mechanically, scarcely looking
up. "The young folks have gone out to ride, I suppose." "Yes, Sir."--A
pause, in which Mrs. Kinloch covered her face with her handkerchief.
"You don't seem well, Ma'am. Shall I call Lucy?" "Lucy is gone," she
answered,--quickly adding, "gone to her grandmother's." "Well, that is
singular. I've been today to look at my land above the old lady's house,
and she asked me to send word to Lucy to come up and see her." "To-day?"
"Yes, Ma'am; not two hours ago." Mrs. Kinloch was rapidly revolving
probabilities. What interest had Lucy to interfere with her affair
