Half an hour later, Mrs. Calverley, who had completely recovered, and, indeed, looked remarkably well, drove over to Brackley in the pony-carriage, attended by Laura and a groom.

The two girls were in the garden when she arrived at the Hall, but Lady Barfleur, who was much impressed by the brilliant engagement Mrs. Calverly had formed, received her with great ceremony.

“Accept my congratulations, dear Mrs. Calverley!” she said. “I felt sure you would marry well, but I did not expect you would make such a great match as this. You are fortunate in every respect, it seems, for Emmeline tells me Lord Courland is exceedingly good-looking and agreeable. I hope he may like Ouselcroft. I should be very sorry if you left this part of the country.”

“Don't be alarmed, dear Lady Barfleur,” rejoined Mrs. Calverley. “I should never think of leaving Ouselcroft, and I am persuaded Lord Courland will be pleased with the place. I expect him on Thursday.”

“You must all come and dine with me during his stay. I don't give dinners now, as you know, but I must see him.”

“He will be delighted to dine with you, I am sure. But I must bring him over some morning to see the old Hall.”

“By all means,” replied Lady Barfleur. “You will always be welcome.”

Here the two girls came in fresh from the garden. Emmeline looked blooming and full of spirits, but Mildred complained of slight indisposition, and, in fact, did not seem very well.

Mrs. Calverley noticed these symptoms with secret satisfaction. They favoured her dark design.

“You seem rather poorly this morning, my love,” she said.

“I am a little out of sorts,” replied Mildred. “I think I caught cold on the journey. But I shall soon be better.”

“Better when a certain person arrives,” whispered Emmeline. “Well, he will be here this evening, or to-morrow at latest. Don't fall ill before he comes!”

“Unfeeling creature!” exclaimed Mildred, with a sickly smile.

Just then, the luncheon-bell was rung, and the ladies proceeded to the dining-room.

It might have been noticed—if such a trifling circumstance could attract attention—that Mrs. Calverley carried her embroidered kerchief in her hand.

While they were crossing the hall, the Reverend Mr. Massey made his appearance, and after saluting Lady Barfleur and the others, went in with them to luncheon.

As they took their seats at table, Mrs. Calverley easily managed to get a place next her step-daughter.

Some little progress had been made with the repast, which it is supposed ladies enjoy more than dinner, when Emmeline remarked:

“You must let us have some champagne to-day, mamma, please. Mildred is rather out of spirits.”

The proposition was seconded by the chaplain, who was always exceedingly cheerful, and had been conversing very agreeably with Lady Barfleur. So the wine was brought and handed round by the butler.

“You must not refuse, Mildred,” cried Emmeline. “The champagne was ordered expressly for you.”

“And for me,” added the chaplain, laughing.

“For you as well,” said Emmeline. “You are entitled to a second glass.”

Even as the words were spoken, with singular boldness and dexterity, and screened by the handkerchief, Mrs. Calverley contrived to let fall two or three poisonous drops from the phial into Mildred's glass.

The action passed completely unnoticed, Mildred's attention being diverted at the moment.

No peculiarity was perceptible in the flavour of the champagne. It seemed excellent, and really believing the exhilarating wine would do her good, Mildred emptied the glass.

In answer to a friendly sign from the chaplain, Mrs. Calverley raised the glass to her lips, but her handkerchief had disappeared.

The enlivening effect of the wine on the party was speedily apparent—except in the instance of Mildred, who began to feel ill, and was obliged to rise from table, and leave the room.

Mrs. Calverley, who seemed greatly concerned, and was very attentive to her, wished her to see Doctor Spencer, but she declined, insisting that it was a mere passing indisposition.

Emmeline was of the same opinion, but Rose Hartley, who bad been summoned to attend her, thought otherwise, and prevailed on her to retire to her own room.

By this time, she had become so faint, that Rose had to assist her to mount the spiral staircase.

To disarm suspicion, Mrs. Calverley remained for an hour, conversing with Lady Barfleur and Mr. Massey, and played her part to perfection—charming them both.

Before setting out on her return, she went up-stairs to see Mildred, and found her lying on a couch with Emmeline and Rose by her side. The glow of the painted glass in the bay-window somewhat disguised the sufferer's paleness.

No touch of pity agitated Teresa's breast as she gazed at her victim. On the contrary, she secretly exulted in the success of her direful attempt. Nevertheless, she inquired with well-feigned solicitude:

“How do you feel now, my love?”

“Somewhat better, I think, mamma,” replied Mildred.

“I am so glad to hear you say so!” remarked Mrs. Calverley. “I hoped to take you and Emmeline back with me to Ouselcroft, but that is quite out of the question now.”

“Quite, ma'am,” observed Rose. “I think Miss Calverley ought to have medical advice.”

“So do I,” rejoined Teresa. “Shall I send for Doctor Spencer, my love?”

“No, mamma,” replied Mildred. “If he comes, I shall be laid up for a week, as I know from sad experience. You recollect how tiresome he was during my last illness, and wouldn't let me stir. I won't have him now, unless I'm obliged.”

“Better let her have her own away,” whispered Emmeline, unconscious that she was playing into Mrs. Calverley's hands. “She wants to see a certain person on his arrival here.”

“Well, you mustn't blame me if any harm ensues,” rejoined Teresa. “I really think she ought to have immediate advice.”

Rose looked imploringly at her, but did not venture to remonstrate.

“Well, I shall come over to-morrow morning,” said Mrs. Calverley; “and then——”

“What then?” asked Mildred, faintly.

“I shall go and fetch Doctor Spencer myself, unless you contrive to get well in the interim. However, I shall feel easy about you, knowing you're in good hands.”

“Yes; Rose and I will take every care of her,” said Emmeline.

“Don't bring Doctor Spencer, or send him, till you see me again, I beg, mamma,” said Mildred. “Promise me that.”

Mrs. Calverley gave the required promise, though with apparent reluctance.

As she bade her victim adieu, and kissed her fevered brow, Mildred instinctively recoiled from the contact of her lips.