“Yes, indeed.”

“And so she always has done and always will do.  And yet, my dear, you must not live in the same house with her now, even if you did live years together when she was your governess.”

“Are you not even more prejudiced against Mrs. Rockharrt than I am?”

“Bah! no, my dear; I have no ill will against the woman, though I will not let my niece live with her or my wife visit her.

“I wish, Uncle Fabian, that you would be more explicit and tell me all you know of Rose Flowers—­or Mrs. Stillwater—­before she became Mrs. Rockharrt.”

“Have you told me all you know of her, Cora, my dear?”

“I have said several times that I know nothing, and yet—­stop—­”

“What?”

“In addition to that strange interview that I overheard, yet did not understand, there was something else that I saw, but equally did not understand.”

“What was that?”

“Something that happened while we were in New York city in May last.”

“Will you tell me what it was?”

“Yes, certainly.  We were staying at the Star Hotel.  We stayed over
Sunday, and we went to the Episcopal church near our hotel, to hear an
English divine preach.”

“Well?”

“He was the celebrated pulpit orator, the Dean of Olivet—­”

“Good Heav—­” exclaimed Mr. Fabian, involuntarily, but stopping himself suddenly.

“What is the matter?” demanded Cora, suspiciously.

“I was too near the edge of the precipice.  We might have been in the river in another moment,” said Mr. Fabian.

Cora did not believe him, but she refrained from saying so.

“The danger is past.  Go on, my dear.”

“We were shown into the strangers’ pew.  The voluntary was playing.  We all bowed our heads for the short private prayer.  The voluntary stopped.  Then we heard the voice of the dean and we lifted our heads.  I turned to offer Mrs. Stillwater a prayer book.  Then I saw her face.  It was ghastly, and her eyes were fixed in a wild stare upon the face of the dean, whose eyes were upon the open book from which he was reading.  Quick as lightning she covered her face with her veil and so remained until we all knelt down for the opening prayer.  When we arose from our knees, Rose was gone.”

Cora paused for a few moments.

“Go on, go on,” said Mr. Fabian.

“We did not leave the church.  Grandfather evidently took for granted that Rose had left on account of some trifling indisposition, and he is not easily moved by women’s ailments, you know.  So we stayed out the services and the sermon.  When we returned to the hotel we found that Rose had retired to her room suffering from a severe attack of neuralgic headache, as she said.”

“What did you think?”

“I thought she might have been suddenly attacked by maddening pain, which had given the wild look to her eyes; but the next day I had good reason to change my opinion as to the cause of her strange demeanor.”