Why stand ye thus amazed? me thinks your eyes
Are fixed in meditation; and all here
Seem like so many senseless statues,
As if your souls had suffered an eclipse
Betwixt your judgments and affections.
—Swetnam

We must return to Claudia, and to that evening when she was accosted by Katie on the stairs.

On that occasion Claudia went down to dinner without feeling the least anxiety on the subject of Katie's promised communication. She supposed, when she thought of it at all, that it was some such idle rumor as frequently arose concerning the discovery of some suspected person implicated in the murder of Ailsie Dunbar.

The dinner that evening happened to be more protracted than usual.

And when they arose from the table Mrs. Dugald, contrary to her custom, immediately retired to her private apartments. Claudia was also about to withdraw, when the viscount said to her:

"Excuse me, Lady Vincent; but I must request the favor of a few moments' conversation with you."

"Very well, my lord," answered Claudia, bowing coldly.

He led the way to the drawing room and Claudia followed. Coffee was already served there, and old Cuthbert was in attendance to hand it around.

"You may go, Cuthbert. We can wait on ourselves." said Lord Vincent, as he led his wife to a seat and took one for himself near her.

When the old servant had left the room the viscount turned to
Claudia and said:

"Lady Vincent, I have been obliged to solicit this interview because I have much to say to you, while you give me very few opportunities of saying anything."

Claudia bowed a cold assent and remained silent.

"It is of Mrs. Dugald that I wish to speak to you."

"I am listening, my lord," replied Claudia haughtily.

"Lady Vincent, this arrogant manner towards me will not serve any good purpose. However, it is not on my own score that I came to complain, but on Mrs. Dugald's; that lady's position in this house is a very delicate one."

"So delicate, my lord, that I think the sooner she withdraws from it the better it will be."

"You do! It is the to that end, then, I presume, that you have treated her with so much scorn and contempt?" said his lordship angrily.

"My lord, with all my faults, I am no hypocrite; and with all my accomplishments I am no actress."

"What do you mean by that, my lady?"

"I mean that I have not been able to treat your—sister-in-law—with the respect that I could not feel for her," replied Claudia, with disdain.

"No, madam!" exclaimed Lord Vincent, turning pale with rage. "You have treated that lady with the utmost contumely. And I have demanded this interview with you for the express purpose of telling you that I will not submit to have the widow of my brother treated with disrespect in my own house and by my own wife!"

Claudia arose with great dignity and answered:

"My lord, since you desired this interview for the purpose of expressing your wishes upon this point; and, since you have expressed them, I presume the object of our meeting has been accomplished and I am at liberty to withdraw. Good-night."

"Not so fast, not so fast, Lady Vincent! I have not done with you yet, my lady. The will that I have just spoken must be obeyed. Mrs. Dugald must be treated by you, as well as by others, with the courtesy and consideration due to her rank and position. Many abuses must be reformed. And among them is this—your constant refusal to appear in public with her. Ever since your arrival here Mrs. Dugald has been a prisoner in the house, because she cannot go out alone; and she will not go out, attended by me, unless you are also of the party, for fear that evil-minded people will talk."

Claudia's beautiful lip curled with scorn as she answered:

"Mrs. Dugald's scruples do credit to her—powers of duplicity."

"You wrong her. You always wrong her; but, by my soul, you shall not continue to do so! Listen, Lady Vincent! Mr. and Mrs. Dean, the celebrated tragedians, are playing a short engagement at Banff. Mrs. Dugald and myself wish to go and see them. It will be proper for you to be of the party. I desire that you will be prepared to go with us to-morrow evening."

Claudia's face flushed crimson with indignation.

"Excuse me, my lord. I cannot possibly appear anywhere in public with Mrs. Dugald," she haughtily replied.

"If you fail to go with us, you will rue your scorn in every vein of your heart, my lady. However, I will not take your final answer to- night; I will give you another chance in the morning. Au revoir!" he said, with an insulting laugh, as he lounged out of the room.

Claudia remained where he had left her, transfixed with indignation, for a few minutes. And then she began to walk up and down the room to exhaust her excitement before going upstairs to her dressing room, where she supposed that Katie was awaiting her.

She walked up and down the floor some fifteen or twenty minutes, and then left the saloon and sought her own apartments. She had just reached the landing of the second floor, on which her rooms were situated, when she was startled by a low, half-suppressed cry of "Murd—," which was quickly stopped, and immediately followed by a muffled fall and a low scuffling, and the voice of Lord Vincent muttering vehemently: "Faustina!" and other words inaudible to the hearer.

"Ah! they are quarreling as usual!" said Claudia to herself, with a scornful smile, as she crossed the hall and entered her own suite of apartments.

"I have kept you waiting, Katie; but I could not help it, my good woman," she said cheerfully, as she entered her dressing room. But there was no reply. She looked around her in surprise. Katie was nowhere to be seen; the room was empty. The lamp was burning dimly and the fire was smoldering out.

Claudia raised the light of the lamp, and, seating herself in her easy-chair before the fire, stirred the coals into a blaze and began, to warm her feet and hands.

"'The old creature has grown weary of waiting, I suppose, and has gone down to her supper," she said to herself. And she sat waiting patiently for some time before she rang her bell.

Sally answered it.

"Go down, Sally, and tell Katie that I am here and ready to see her now," said Lady Vincent.

Sally went on this errand, but soon returned and said:

"If you please, ma'am, Aunt Katie aint nowhere downstairs. I s'pects she's done gone to bed."

Claudia suddenly looked up to the ormolu clock that stood upon the mantel shelf.

"Why, yes!" she said, "it is nearly eleven o'clock. I had no idea that it was so late. Of course she has gone to bed."

"Mus' I go call her up, ma'am?"

"No, Sally; certainly not. But there was something that she said she had to tell me. Something, I fancy, it was, about the murder of that poor girl. Has anything new been discovered in relation to that affair, do you know?"

"No, ma'am, not as I has hearn. 'Deed it was only jes now we was all a-talking about it in de servants' hall, and Mr. Frisbie he was a-mentioning how misteerious it was, as we could hear nothing. And jes then your bell rung, ma'am, and I came away."

"Well, Sally, you must help me to disrobe, and then you may go."

The waiting maid did her duty and retired.

And Claudia, wrapped in her soft dressing gown and seated in her easy-chair before the fire, gave herself up to thought.

She was thinking of her meeting with Katie on the stairs. Since it was no new rumor connected with the murder, she was wondering what could be the nature of the communication Katie had to make to her. She recalled the anxious, frightened, indignant countenance of the old woman, and in her memory that expression seemed to have a more significant meaning than it had had to her careless eyes at the time of seeing it.

What could it be that Katie had to tell her? Of course Claudia did not know; she soon gave up trying to conjecture; but felt impatient for the morning, when the mystery should be revealed.

Other anxious thoughts also troubled her; thoughts of the dangers to which she was exposed from the hatred of Lord Vincent, the jealousy of Mrs. Dugald, and the depravity of both; thoughts of her father's long and strange silence; thoughts of the insult she had received that evening in being commanded to chaperon Mrs. Dugald to the theater; thoughts of the mysterious sounds she had heard from Mrs. Dugald's room, and which she was so far from connecting with any idea of Katie that she attributed them solely to a quarrel between her two precious companions; and lastly the ever-recurring thoughts of that mysterious discovery which old Katie had made, and which she was so eager to impart to her lady. Ever Claudia's thoughts, traveling in a circle, came back to this point.

Wearied with fruitless speculation she still sat on, watching the decaying fire and listening to the thunder of the sea as it broke upon the rocks at the base of the castle. At length she got up, drew aside the heavy window curtains, opened the strong oaken shutters and looked out upon the expanse of the gray and dreary sea, dimly visible under the cloudy midnight sky.

At last she closed the window and went to bed. But she could not sleep. She lay wakeful, restless, anxious, through the long hours of the middle night, and through the gray dawn of morning and the early flush of day. A little before her usual hour of rising she rang the bell.

Sally answered it.

"Is Katie up?" she inquired.

"No, ma'am. Mus' I wake her?"

"Certainly not. Let her have her sleep out, poor creature. And do you stop and help me to dress."

And so saying Claudia arose and made an elegant morning toilet; for Claudia, like Mary Stuart, would have "dressed" had she been a lifelong, hopeless captive.

When her toilet was made she directed Sally to bring her a cup of strong coffee; and when she had drunk it she sat down to wait with what patience she could for the awakening of old Katie.

Poor Claudia, with all her faults, was kind to her dependents and considerate of their comforts. And so, anxious as she was to hear the communication old Katie had to make to her, she was resolved not to have the old woman's rest broken.

She sat by the window of her dressing room, looking out upon the boundless sea from which the sun was rising, and over which a solitary sail was passing. She sat there until the breakfast bell rang. And then she went below.

She was the first in the breakfast room, and she remained there standing before the fire full ten minutes before anyone else appeared.

Lord Vincent was the next to come in. And Claudia actually started when she saw the awful pallor of his face. Every vestige of color had fled from it; his brow, cheeks, and even lips were marble white; his voice shook in saying "good-morning," and his hand shook in lifting the "Banff Beacon" from the table.

While Claudia was watching him in wonder and amazement, there came a flutter and a rustle, and Mrs. Dugald entered the room all brightness and smiles.

She gave one quick, wistful glance at the viscount, and then addressed him in a hurried, anxious tone, speaking in the Italian language and saying:

"Rouse yourself! Look not so like an assassin. You will bring suspicion!"

"Hush!" answered the viscount, with a quick glance towards Claudia, which warned La Faustina that the American lady might be supposed to understand Italian.

Claudia did understand it, and was filled with a vague sense of horror and amazement.

They sat down to the table. Lord Vincent followed Mrs. Dugald's advice and tried to "rouse" himself. And after he had two or three cups of coffee he succeeded.

Faustina was as bright as a paroquet and as gay as a lark. She prattled on in a perpetual, purling stream of music. Among other things she said:

"And do we go to see Mr. and Mrs. Dean in 'Macbeth' tonight, mon ami?"

"Yes; and Lady Vincent goes with us," answered Lord Vincent emphatically.

"I beg your pardon, my lord. I have already declined to do so," said Claudia, speaking with forced coolness, though her heart was burning, her cheeks flaming, and her eyes flashing with indignation.

"You will think better of it, my lady. You will go. Cuthbert, pass the eggs."

"I shall not, my lord," replied Claudia.

"Why will you not? Pepper, Cuthbert."

"For the reason that I gave you last night. Your lordship cannot wish me to repeat it here."

"Oh, a very particular reason you gave me! The salt, Cuthbert," said his lordship, coolly breaking the shell of his egg.

"A reason, my lord, that should be considered sufficiently satisfactory to relieve me from importunity on the subject," answered Claudia.

"If miladie does not wish to go, we should not urge her to do so," observed Mrs. Dugald, as she slowly sipped her chocolate.

"Certainly not. And now I think of it, you can send over for Mrs. MacDonald to come and go with us. The old lady enjoys the drama excessively and will be glad to come. So you shall be sure of your intellectual treat, Faustina."

"That will be so nice!" exclaimed Mrs. Dugald, clapping her hands in childish glee.

Claudia arose from the table and withdrew to her own apartments. She was revolted by the fulsome manners of the strange woman who shared her dwelling, and she was drawn toward the secret, whatever it was, that old Katie wished to impart to her.

When she entered the rooms she found them all arranged tidily by the neat hands of Sally, who since the death of poor Ailsie had had the care of them.

"Sally, has not Katie been up yet?" inquired Lady Vincent.

"No, ma'am; I don't think she's awake yet; I reckon she's a- oversleepin' of herself. And I would 'a' waked her up, only, ma'am, you bid me not to do it."

"What, do you mean to say that she has not yet made her appearance?" demanded Claudia, in alarm.

"Nobody aint seen nothing 'tall of her this morning, ma'am."

"Go to her room at once and see if she is ill. She may be, you know. Go in quietly, so that you will not awaken her if she should be asleep," said Claudia, in alarm, for she suddenly remembered that people of Katie's age and habit sometimes die suddenly and are found dead in their beds.

Sally went on her errand, and Claudia stood waiting and listening breathlessly until her return.

"Laws, ma'am, Aunt Katie's done got up, and made her bed up and put her room to rights, and gone downstairs," said Sally, as she entered the room.

"Then go at once, and if she has had her breakfast send her up to me. Strange she did not come."

Sally departed on this errand also, but she was gone longer than on the first. It was nearly half an hour before she returned. She came in with a scared face, saying:

"Ma'am, it's very odd; but the servants say as ole Aunt Katie hasn't been down this morning."

"Hasn't been down this morning? And is not in her room either?" cried Claudia, in amazement.

"No, ma'am!" answered Sally, stretching her big eyes.

Lady Vincent sharply rang the bell.

The housekeeper promptly answered it, entering the room with an anxious countenance.

"Mrs. Murdock, is it true that my servant Katie has not been seen this morning?"

"Me leddy, she has nae been seen, puir auld bodie, sin' last e'en at the gloaming. She didna come to supper, though Katie isna use to be that careless anent her bit and sup, neither."

"Not seen since last evening at dusk!" exclaimed Claudia, in consternation.

"Na, me leddy, ne'er a bit o' her, puir bodie!"

"Go, Mrs. Murdock, and send the maids to look for her in every place about the castle where she is in the habit of going. And send the men outside to examine the premises. She may be taken with a fit somewhere, and die for want of assistance," said Lady Vincent, in alarm.

"And sae she may, me leddy! That is true enough," replied the dame, nodding her head emphatically as she hurried out on this mission.

Claudia sat down before her dressing-room fire and tried to wait the issue patiently. To be sure, she thought Katie might be in the stillroom, or the linen closet, or the bathroom, and there could be no reasonable cause of uneasiness. But why, then, did she not come up? Well, she might have been busy in some one of the above- mentioned places; and she might have been waiting until she thought her mistress should have got through breakfast; and perhaps she might come now very soon; might even enter at any moment. Such were the thoughts that coursed through Claudia's brain, as she tried to sit still before her little fire.

For more than an hour Claudia waited, and then she impatiently rang the bell. It brought Mrs. Murdock into the room.

"Has Katie been found yet?"

"Na, me leddy, not a bit of her. The servants are still seeking her."

"But this is very strange and alarming."

"It just is, me leddy. And I canna but fear that some ill has happened till her, puir soul!"

"I will go down and assist in the search," said Lady Vincent, rising anxiously.

"Na, me leddy, dinna gang, ye canna do ony good. The lasses are seeking in every nook and cranny in the house; and if she is biding in it they will find her. And the lads hae gone outside to seek in the grounds, whilk same is sune done; for the castle yard and grounds are nae that expansive, as your leddyship kens." "But I cannot sit here, waiting in idleness. It drives me half frantic! Who can say what may not have happened to poor Katie?"

"Nae, me leddy, dinna fash yo'sel'! She may e'en just ha' gone her ways over to Banff, or some gait, and may be back sune. I'll gae see if they ha' brought in ony news."

"Go, then, Mrs. Murdock, and let me know the instant you hear anything definite," said Claudia, sinking back in her chair.

Mrs. Murdock left the room, and another hour of suspense passed. And then, uncalled, the housekeeper came up again, and said:

"It is a' in vain, me leddy. The servants have sought everywhere, within and without the castle, and they can na find the auld bodie at a'! And your leddyship's ain footman, Jamie, ha' come fra Banff and brought the morning mail, and he has na seen onything o' his mither on the road."

"Good Heavens! but this is strange and very dreadful. Send Jim up to me at once."

The housekeeper went to obey. And Jim soon stood in the presence of his mistress.

"Any letters from America, Jim?" inquired Lady Vincent anxiously, and for a moment forgetting poor old Katie's unknown fate.

"No, my lady, not one. There was no foreign mail to-day."

"Another disappointment! Always disappointments!" sighed Claudia. And then reverting to the subject of Katie's disappearance, she said:

"What is this about your mother, Jim? When did you see her last? And have you any idea where she can be gone?"

Jim suddenly burst into tears; for we know that he loved his old mother exceedingly; and he sobbed forth the words:

"Oh, my lady, I am afeared as somebody has gone and made way with her as they did with poor Ailsie!"

"Gracious Heaven, Jim, what a horrible idea! and what an utterly irrational one. Who could possibly have any motive for harming poor old Katie?"

"I don't know, my lady. But, you see, my poor mother was always a- watching and a-listening about after his lordship and that strange lady. And I know they noticed it, and maybe they have done made way with mother—My lady! oh! you are fainting! You are dying!" cried Jim, suddenly breaking off, and rushing towards his mistress, who had turned deadly pale, and fallen back in her chair.

"No, no! water, water!" cried Lady Vincent, struggling to overcome her weakness.

Jim flew and brought her a full glass. She quaffed its contents eagerly, and sat up, and tried to collect her panic-stricken faculties. She had received a dreadful shock. Jim's words had given the key to the whole mystery. In one terrible moment the ghastly truth had burst upon her. She understood, now, the whole. She could combine the circumstances: Katie's agitated meeting with her on the stairs; the communication which the poor faithful old creature seemed so eager to make, and which must have related to some discovery that she had made; the mysterious noises heard in Mrs. Dugald's apartments; the guilty paleness of the viscount at the breakfast table; the strange words spoken in Italian by Faustina; the mysterious disappearance of Katie; all, all these pointed to one dreadful deed, from the bare thought of which all Claudia's soul recoiled in horror.

"Jim!" she gasped, in a choking voice.

"My lady!"

"At what hour last evening did you see your mother?"

"Just a little after sunset. The last dinner bell had rung; and I brought some coal up to put on your ladyship's fire, and I set it on the outside of the door, intending to take it in as soon as your ladyship came out to go down to dinner. Well, I was standing there waiting with the coal when I saw my lord's dor open and Mr. Frisbie come out, with such a face! Oh, my lady! I don't know how to describe it; but it had a cruel, cowardly, desperate look—as if he would have cut someone's throat to save himself a shilling! He passed on downstairs without ever seeing me. And the next minute my lord came out of the same room, with—I beg your pardon, my lady—a look of wicked triumph on his face. He was even laughing, like he had done something that pleased him. And he happened to look up and see me, and he growled:

"'What are you doing there, fellow?'

"And I bowed down to the ground a'most, and answered:

"'I have brought up coal for my lady's rooms, my lord.'

"'Very well,' he said, and he went on.

"Next thing, I was tuk right off my feet, by seeing of my own mother come right out'n that same room. And she came out, did the old woman, with her eyes rolled up and her arms lifted high, looking as she a'most always does when she hears anything dreadful; looking just for all the world as she did the day she heard of poor Ailsie's murder. Well, my lady, I felt sure as she had been a-hiding of herself in my lord's room, and had discovered something horrible. And so I called to her in a low voice:

"'Mother!'

"But she shook her head at me, and ran down the stairs, and stood waiting. And just at that minute your ladyship came out of your room. You may remember, my lady, seeing me standing there with the coal as you came out?"

"Yes, Jim, I remember," replied Lady Vincent.

"Well, my lady, I saw mother stop you, and I heard a whispered conversation, in which she seemed to beg you to do something that you hadn't time to attend to, for you went downstairs and left her."

"I was on my way to dinner, you remember; but I bade Katie go into my dressing room and await me there. When I went up after dinner, however, I found that she had not followed my directions. She was not in my apartments, nor have I seen her since."

"I beg pardon, my lady; but, indeed, poor mother did obey your ladyship. She came upstairs again, and she took the coal hod out'n my hands, and said—said she:

"'You go right straight downstairs, Jim, and I'll tend to my ladyship's fires myself.' And I said:

"'Mother,' said I, 'what's the matter?' And she whispered to me:

"'I done hear somethin' awful, Jim; but I must tell my ladyship before I tells anyone else.'

"'Was it about poor Ailsie's death?' said I.

"'Worse 'an dat,' she answered; and then she went in and shut the door in my face. And I come away. And that was the last time as ever I see my poor, dear old mother. She never come down to supper, nor likewise to play cards in the servants' hall in the evening, as she is so fond of doing. And surely, my lady, I was not uneasy, because I knew she often stayed in your ladyship's rooms until late; and as I had seen her go into them myself that evening, I was feeling full sure that she was with you. And so I went to bed in peace. And this morning, as I got up and went to the post office before any of the woman servants were astir, of course I didn't expect to see her. But the first thing as I heard when I come back, was as she was a- missing! And oh, my lady, I'm sure, I'm dead sure, as somebody has made way with her!" exclaimed Jim, bursting into a fresh flood of tears.

"Don't despair, Jim; we must hope for the best," replied Lady
Vincent, in whose bosom not a vestige of hope remained.

But Jim only answered with his tears.

"Compose yourself, boy; and go and say to Lord Vincent that I request to see him in my boudoir."

Jim went out with a heavy heart to do his errand; but returned with an answer that Lord Vincent was engaged.

"I will not be baffled in this way!" muttered Claudia to herself. Then speaking aloud she inquired: "Where is his lordship, and upon what is he engaged?"

"He is sitting in the library, with a bottle of brandy and a box of cigars on the table by him; he is smoking and drinking."

"'Smoking and drinking' at twelve o'clock in the day!" muttered Claudia to herself, with a motion of disgust. Then speaking up, she said: "Go downstairs, Jim, and assist in the search for your poor mother; I will ring when I want you."