Lady Hester had quite recovered from her guilty scare of the previous night. The mere coincidence of a name was enough to stop her heart beating just now; and she rated herself soundly for her weakness in the presence of Aunt Caroline. She was busy preparing for her guests, several of whom had been invited to dine specially to meet the Bannisters. She also lost no time in spreading the news of Jack's engagement in the neighborhood. Every outsider coming to the house with formal congratulations was an ally on her side against the enemy.

She was in a flutter of expectation and excitement. In brief intervals of rest her mind jumped forward as far as the wedding, and she had resolved exactly what she would wear, chosen the color for the bridesmaids' gowns, and settled the composition of the dinner party at the Palace after Jack and Mabel were one, and Aunt Caroline was squelched forever.

After the wedding the old lady would have no possible excuse for interfering with the domestic arrangements of the Palace, or harrying the maids under pretence of making things comfortable for Jack--for no manservant had been allowed to pamper the Bishop's son and encourage him in habits of indolence and foppery. Aunt Caroline did not believe in personal servants. No lady's maid ever dressed her; such affectations were the monopoly of the Bishop's wife.

By the time that Mabel and her father were due to arrive, Lady Hester had worked herself into a state of excitement. She wanted the dinner party to be a success. She desired with a woman's natural vanity to make a good impression upon Mr. Bannister, who, from all accounts, was a person who appreciated feminine beauty, and understood the worth of an exquisite gown as well as any woman. She had chosen a particularly artistic creation, quite her most effectual frock, and one that harmonized well with her wonderful hair, its pale gold surface covered with an exquisite tracery of softest orange velvet. The dress fitted her perfectly, too, revealing the lines of her figure somewhat generously, and falling about her feet in a foam of rippling flounces.

The room that Mabel occupied during her stay at the Palace was again at her disposal, although so far no communication had come from the girl to Lady Hester either as friend or hostess. Bannister had wired that they would be coming down by motor car in the afternoon, and pleaded for a little grace in case there should be delay. There had been heavy rain for an hour, and that probably accounted for his arriving at the Palace when the light was fading. Lady Hester heard the car enter the courtyard, and drew aside the curtains as excitedly as any girl. She saw the ponderous motor swing round the bend of the drive, with a faultless chauffeur in white overalls, and two people in the tonneau. Mabel's pale face was recognizable instantly. Her father's eyes were shaded by a large peak cap, but his eyeglass caught a glint of light, and his trim beard concealed the lines of his face. He looked young and interesting, however, much younger than she expected.

The house steward received the guests in the absence of the host and hostess in their dressing rooms; and Bannister inquired anxiously if his man had come down by train.

His man had. Voss was there, and was already busy in his master's room--and several other rooms where the doors were open, peeping, prying, measuring, calculating, speculating, and generally making himself acquainted with the geography of the rambling old house.

Mr. Bannister was also concerned about his new car--he had only hired it for a month--and explained politely that he was very particular where it was housed. The Bishop kept no proper motor house, and he suggested that it should go to an inn in Ripley, within telephone call.

The car was sent away--which was convenient. It prevented the chauffeur from informing the staff of the household that he was not on the strength of Mr. Bannister's establishment in town.

Lady Hester heard the soft, drawling tones of the guest as he passed along the corridor outside her room in the wake of Gray, the butler. There was something strangely musical in the voice that was almost familiar. It was possible that she might have met him before at some social function, where he passed unnoticed among other guests; there was certainly something in his bearing in the car that was familiar.

Mabel had rushed up stairs without ceremony. Her previous stay at the Palace had made her more or less at home there. She was told that her old room was ready; but instead of going there she asked for Lady Hester. When told that her hostess was dressing, she turned her steps to the familiar room, and knocked without hesitation, a sharp, impatient rapping.

"Who is it?"

"It is I--Mabel. May I came in?" said a tense, thrilling, anxious voice.

"Yes, Mabel, come in."

Lady Hester, although only half through her toilet, turned with open arms to greet Jack's future wife.

"Ah, my dear girl--at last!" she cried. "But how pale you are. Are you cold? Did you get wet?"

"Oh, no, no," replied Mabel, rubbing her cheeks. "I must apologize for coming to you like this. But--but I wanted to see you. Would it be asking too much to have my room changed?"

"Certainly, if you wish it. I thought you liked that room, because of the window seat."

"Can I have one next to father?"

"Yes, dear, if you wish it. Speak to Gray about it, or Harriet."

Mabel felt that some explanation was wanted for this unusual request, and stammered out an excuse.

"You see--you see, Miss Cardew's room is so near mine now."

"Oh, yes, of course, of course--I understand," laughed Lady Hester. "It will be nicer, perhaps, if you are near your father. Besides, you know the place so well, you can pilot him through the maze of corridors upstairs. You have plenty of time to get ready, Mabel. I hope you've brought a stock of pretty dresses, child. I've invited quite a lot of people to meet you, and we are to have a really festive gathering. I have spread the news of your engagement far and wide, because Aunt Caroline has set her heart upon wrecking it. Be civil to her, for heaven's sake. If she insults you, overlook it. If she ignores you, you must ignore her. She is quite helpless. When you are introduced to her, go up and kiss her--and may I be there to see the fun! She's a very good soul at bottom, but the depths are a long way down. You must manage the old lady skillfully. If there's any fighting to be done, leave that to me. You must make it all right with Aunt Caroline, because she's got heaps of money, and Jack must have it; or else it will go to a home for lost dogs, or incompetent curates. Stay with me awhile and let us discuss the wedding."

But the girl made excuses.

"I'm disturbing you. I shall be in the way while you dress; besides, it's late already, and I've a lot to do."

Lady Hester detected the change of tone instantly. A latent anxiety and apprehensiveness had crept into Mabel's voice, dulling its vivacity and youthfulness. She turned to the girl in kindly scrutiny.

"Mabel, aren't you happy? You look so worried and unlike yourself, child. You're not regretting?"

"No. Of course I'm happy now everything's settled. But the journey down upset me, I fancy. I'm not used to fast motors; and we came down at an awful pace."

"I didn't know your father had such a fine car."

"No?"

"Has he had it long?"

"I'm sure I don't know. He doesn't tell me much about his affairs. I'll go and dress now. We'll talk presently."

"He shall take Aunt Caroline out for a drive--and lose her," laughed Lady Hester, and Mabel escaped.

Lady Hester hurried feverishly through her dressing. The excitement had given her a rosy flush. Her eyes were sparkling, and she had never looked younger since she became Lady Hester Cardew. She seemed to have bridged the gap of years, and gone back to the days before sorrow and anxiety had thinned her cheeks, and darkened the shadows beneath her eyes. She was in the ripest maturity of womanhood, life's Indian summer. The girlish vivacity was gone, but the stately, graceful figure remained; and as she surveyed her full-length reflection in the long mirror she laughed triumphantly to think that Mabel herself, with all the bloom of youth, could not outshine her this evening.

One more critical survey, comprehensive and satisfied--her gown was a complete success, and its unusual gaiety of tone pleased her--and she hurried down. She rustled along the soft-carpeted corridor to the head of the broad, curved stone staircase that leads down to the oak hall of Ripley Palace. Some one was descending ahead of her, a perfectly groomed, broad-shouldered man, whom she guessed at once to be Mr. Bannister. She intended to introduce herself, and while he stood poised on the last stair, with his back towards her, gazing up at the grand oak carving upon which the light from the lamp in the centre fell softly and mysteriously, she ran impetuously down three steps. Her foot caught in the chiffon flounce of her dress--she stumbled--and put out her hand to save herself; but she was too far away from the balustrade. With a cry she went down, half turning as she fell, and measured her length upon the stairs with a dreadful thud.

It all happened in a moment. The man down below turned in astonishment, for he had supposed himself to be alone. He rushed up two stairs at a time. "Are you hurt?" he cried. "Let me assist you, madam."

She moaned in pain and tried to rise. He put his arm under her and lifted her up, so that his face came over hers; and when the first swooning sensation had passed, she looked up with a forced smile of apology.

"It's awfully kind of you--but----"

Their eyes met, and the man gasped in startled confusion.

"Good God!--Hester!"

He almost let her fall, but recovered his composure with remarkable suddenness. His eyes were gazing into hers, but still she did not understand. The light shone down upon her face where she had fallen, whereas his was in shadow, with the lamp above him. He raised her gently, and, when at last she stood alone, holding on to the balustrade, and trying to laugh at what was a painful shock, she saw him plainly.

"Who--are you?" she asked, with growing uneasiness. He was familiar, yet strange. Memory found its tongue. She screamed--

"Dick!"

He seized her wrists roughly, and shook her back to reason. "Silence!" he whispered. "Don't be a fool. Don't give yourself away."

"Hester, my love!" said the voice of the Bishop, who emerged from the library, and stood with the handle of the door in his hand, looking upward anxiously. "Did I hear you cry out?"

"Yes--yes, I fell, dear. My foot caught in my dress----"

"A very nasty fall, a most dangerous fall, Bishop," explained Bannister. "Fortunately I was here to help her. I think you're better now, Lady Cardew."

"I'm afraid you're not, dear," cried the Bishop anxiously. "Look at her--quick!--she'll fall."

The Bishop ran forward, but Bannister was before him, and Lady Hester dropped fainting into his arms.

He held her to him, full of concern and sympathy, and carried her down the few remaining stairs, thrusting the Bishop aside. Even then he could not relinquish her. His arms would not unclasp from that soft, yielding form that once was his--that seemed to be still his. It brought back the old days with a rush--the painful, hysterical scenes--the last wild quarrel that had ended even as this fright had ended, in a fainting woman dropping into her husband's arms, mercifully dazed by a wild convulsion of emotion too terrible to bear consciously and live.

"Set her down--set her down!" cried the Bishop, helplessly waving his hands and fidgeting round, ready to lend assistance when the other had released her.

"There's no couch here. I can't drop her on the floor," snarled Bannister, as though he, and not the Bishop, had the prior right to take the lead in this emergency. Nevertheless, he allowed Hester's form to sink gently, and supported her head upon his knee.

"Bring water--bring water!" gasped the Bishop, turning to the first person near--Aunt Caroline.

"What's the fuss?" asked the old lady, levelling her glasses and surveying the strange scene, the deathlike woman in the yellow gown--a brilliant gleaming patch of color, relieved by the dark carpet and the black clothes of Bannister.

"Water, Caroline--water! She's fainted."

"Water won't help her. She's coming round. Let her head go lower, man. Don't hold her like that."

Bannister came back to the present surroundings, and Voss was at his elbow with a glass of water, coming from no one knew where.

Lady Hester was recovering with low moans, murmuring "Dick! Dick!"--but fortunately the words were inaudible to all but Bannister, who bent low over her, peering so close to her face, that Aunt Caroline took him by the coat and tugged him away.

"Give her air, man. She won't recover if you smother her like that. Haven't you ever seen a fainting woman before?"

Bannister for once forgot himself. He gave Aunt Caroline a glance that was devilish in its angry remonstrance, but soon returned to Hester. "Pull yourself together, Lady Cardew," he said, putting considerable emphasis on the name Cardew. "The Bishop is here, and--and your mother."

"Mother?" murmured Aunt Caroline angrily.

"This is Mr. Bannister, Caroline. He caught Hester as she fell and carried her down for me. See, her eyes are opening now. Hester, do you think you'll be able to get up?"

"Oh, yes, John." She saw only the Bishop. Consciousness of her surroundings came back slowly; then Bannister's warning eyes came within range, and she screamed a little, drawing away, as from a spectre.

"It's only Mr. Bannister, Hester darling."

It was Bannister's hand that raised her to her feet. She tried to laugh, but it was a very sorry attempt.

They were joined by others now, news of the accident having spread through the household. Mabel came running down stairs, looking almost as white as her hostess, and dreading, she knew not what. As far as she could see, there had been a scene, and her father was in the thick of it; and Aunt Caroline, too, whom she now saw face to face for the first time.

"I'm quite all right," sighed Lady Hester, waving them all away. "I'm completely recovered. And I'm much obliged to--to this gentleman for his timely aid. Mabel--this is your father, I suppose?"

"Yes, dearest, Mr. Bannister," explained the Bishop. "This is a strange introduction, and I wish it could have happened under happier circumstances. Caroline, this is Mr. Bannister--my sister."

Bannister smiled sweetly, and advanced to the grim lady, instinctively divining where his chief difficulty lay.

"Miss Cardew, you spoke to me just now, and I fear I was rude. I should have given way to your superior knowledge. Allow me to offer you my apologies, and shake you by the hand. I have heard of you from your nephew; and if you are worthy of half his praises your acquaintance is indeed to be desired. Mabel, my dear, this is Miss Cardew, Jack's aunt, whom he has so longed for you to see."

"Sorry the desire was not mutual," sniffed Miss Cardew rudely, and raising her pince-nez to give Mabel a more discomposing stare. "Perhaps when I know Miss Bannister better I shall be able to meet her more cordially."

"Caroline! Caroline!" cried the Bishop in amazement; but Caroline had turned and disappeared into the library.

"Mr. Bannister, you must excuse my sister. She is impulsive, and--and very fond of Jack. She's jealous--that's the long and short of it," he whispered. "An old woman's jealousy is a strange and terrible infliction. Take no notice of it. You'll esteem her highly when you know her better."

Mabel could have cried with humiliation, but she set her teeth, and her pale face showed no trace of emotion. Her meeting with Aunt Caroline was a failure.

"Give me your arm a moment, Mabel," asked Lady Hester, rising from the chair into which they had put her. "I shall be all right soon. That's right. Take me upstairs--for a few moments--and all of you go away, and forget me for a little time."

She bore up wonderfully. Only Mabel could see the awful struggle to be calm. Bannister drew the Bishop into the library with an easy, familiar clutch of the arm, intended to be sympathetic.

"It is so disturbing to see one's own wife lose consciousness," he observed. "I've been through it, Bishop. And the thing they hate most is to have a fuss made about it. Leave her to my daughter for a little while, and if she doesn't pull round, I should insist upon her going to bed. That was a nasty fall she had, and she must have hurt herself badly to have fainted so quickly."

"Of course she must. Hester never faints. You've no idea what a turn it gave me to see her so white. Poor Hester! She mustn't go through with a dinner party if she's in pain. They are nasty stairs, too, to fall down."

He went back to the hall to look at the stairs, and asked to be shown the point where she slipped. Bannister had to describe the whole thing in detail, with a little fanciful coloring. He threw in a few words of praise of Lady Hester's fortitude, and cleverly contrived to lead the Bishop to talk of himself and his wife when they returned to the library.

The Bishop fell into the trap, and, while imagining he was talking of Jack's future, told Mr. Bannister all that gentleman wanted to know about his past. Bannister vainly strove to draw Aunt Caroline into the conversation. She sat at the far end of the library behind a copy of the _Guardian_, over the top of which she watched as she listened. She saw strange lights flash in Bannister's eyes; a quizzical smile played round the corners of his mouth; and there were moments when he passed his hand across his hair, as if worried and bewildered. But sardonic amusement was twinkling in his eyes most of the time.

When the Bishop was called away to meet some guests from the neighborhood who were arriving, Bannister forgot all about the old lady in the corner. He dropped into a chair and chuckled.

"You seem amused, sir," observed Aunt Caroline.

He was taken off his guard--but only for a moment. "It was this," he explained, tapping an open copy of _Punch_ upon the library table.

"Humph! Clever of you to laugh before you saw it. Ah, you may well smile at my brother's absurd talk about his second marriage. And as there is a proposal to make you one of the family, I don't apologize for referring to it. It never had my approval, and it never will. But it did not provide me with as much amusement as you seem to get out of it. You evidently knew Lady Hester before her marriage."

"I?" cried Bannister, with barefaced innocence. "I never had that privilege, madam, or perhaps she would not have become Mrs. Cardew. A magnificent creature--a perfect woman!"

"Then why did she call you Dick?"

"Call me Dick?" he murmured in magnificent astonishment. "My name is not Dick."

"You are Mr. Richard Bannister, are you not?"

"True, my name is Richard. But I've never been called Dick--always Richard. Dick is horribly familiar--a sort of name that suggests everybody's friend."

"Don't try to fool me by prevaricating. She called you Dick; and you have never been known as Dick! Yet you remind me of Dick Gordon, of Vienna; perhaps you reminded her of Dick Gordon."

"Dick Gordon, of Vienna?" echoed Bannister, slowly and wonderingly. "Wherever have I heard that name before? Was he a jockey?"

"No, an adventurer, and a rascal."

"The scoundrel! Was he a friend of yours whom I resemble?" unable to resist the temptation to make Aunt Caroline furious. "Surely never an intimate of the Bishop's family! I've been told I'm like a popular actor, a French nobleman, and one of the Greek statues--but never like--like--what name did you say, 'Gordon?' Did the resemblance frighten Lady Hester, poor woman! Do you think it was that?"

"I'm sure of it," replied the old lady grimly, with the nearest approach to a smile that she could summon on this irritating day of days. She admired Mr. Bannister's _sangfroid_. His impertinence was superb; and Aunt Caroline was not utterly devoid of a sense of humor.

Further conversation was interrupted by the hasty return of the Bishop, who came to announce that Lady Hester would be obliged to abandon the idea of appearing at dinner. She seemed very much upset--almost hysterical, in fact, and begged to be excused. His guests came almost at his heels, and were introduced to Mr. Bannister, and all joined in commiserating their host, and expressing sorrow for Lady Hester.

"Caroline, my dear, you must take my wife's place, and look after Mr. Bannister."