“So I’ve heard,” replied the young man thoughtfully, leaning against a big glass case containing a collection of lares and penates—­images of Jupiter, Hercules, Mercury, &c., used as household gods.  “I expected that he would be dancing attendance upon her during the whole of the evening; but, curiously enough, soon after his arrival he suddenly disappeared, and was not seen again until nearly two o’clock.”  Then, looking straight in the girl’s fathomless eye, he added, “Do you know, Gabrielle, I don’t like that fellow.  Beware of him.”

“Neither do I. But your warning is quite unnecessary, I assure you.  He doesn’t interest me in the least.”

Walter Murie was silent for a moment, silent as though in doubt.  A shadow crossed his well-cut features, but only for a single second.  Then he smiled again upon the fair-faced, soft-spoken girl whom he loved so honestly and so well, the woman who was all in all to him.  How could he doubt her—­she who only a year ago had, out yonder in the park, given him her pledge of affection, and sealed it with her hot, passionate kisses?  Remembrance of those sweet caresses still lingered with him.  But he doubted her.  Yes, he could not conceal from himself certain very ugly facts—­facts within his own knowledge.  Yet was not his own poignant jealousy misleading him?  Was not her refusal to attend the ball perhaps due to some sudden pique or unpleasantness with her giddy stepmother?  Was it?  He only longed to be able to believe that it might be so.  Alas! however, he had discovered the shadow of a strange and disagreeable truth.

CHAPTER VI

CONCERNS GABRIELLE’S SECRET

Along the cloister they went to the great hall, where Walter’s mother advanced to greet her.  Full of regrets at the girl’s inability to attend the dance, she handed her the missing bracelet, saying, “It is such a curious and unusual one, dear, that we wondered to whom it belonged.  Brown found it when she was sweeping my boudoir this morning.  Take it home to your mother, and suggest that she has a stronger clasp put on it.”

The girl held the golden snake in her open hand.  This was the first time she had ever seen it.  A fine example of old Italian workmanship, it was made flexible, with its flat head covered with diamonds, and two bright emeralds for the eyes.  The mouth could be opened, and within was a small cavity where a photo or any tiny object could be concealed.  Where her mother had picked it up she could not tell.  But Lady Heyburn was always purchasing quaint odds and ends, and, like most giddy women of her class, was extraordinarily fond of fantastic jewellery and ornaments such as other women did not possess.

Several members of the house-party at Connachan entered and chatted, all being full of the success of the previous night’s entertainment.  Lady Murie’s husband had, it appeared, left that morning for Edinburgh to attend a political committee.