The French strain in the Malincourt family had reproduced itself indubitably, both in the appearance of Pauline and of Pauline’s daughter.  Would the mother’s tragedy, fruit of her singular charm and of a pride which had accorded love but a secondary place in her scheme of life, also be re-enacted in the case of the daughter?  It seemed almost as though Patrick must have had pre-vision of some like fiery ordeal though which his “little old pal” might have to pass, so urgent had been the warning he had uttered.

Sara shivered, as if she, too, felt a prescience of coming disaster.  It was as though a shadow had fallen across her path, a shadow of which the substance lay hidden, shrouded in the mists which veil the future.

CHAPTER IV

ELISABETH—­AND HER SON

The entrance to Barrow Court was somewhat forbidding.  A flight of shallow granite steps, flanked by balustrades of the same austere substance, terminating in huge, rough-hewn pillars, led up to an enormous door of ancient oak, studded with nails—­destined, it would seem, to resist the onslaught of an armed multitude.  The sternness of its aspect, when the great door was closed, seemed to add an increased warmth to the suggestion of welcome it conveyed when, as now, it was swung hospitably open, emitting a ruddy glow of firelight from the hall beyond.

Sara was standing at the top of the granite steps, waiting to greet the Durwards, whose approach was already heralded by the humming of a motor far down the avenue.

A faint regret disquieted her.  This was the last—­the very last—­time she would stand at the head of those stairs in the capacity of a hostess welcoming her guests; and even now her position there was merely an honorary one!  In a few minutes, when Mrs. Durward should step across the threshold, it was she who would be transformed into the hostess, while Sara would have to take her place as a simple guest in the house which for twelve years had been her home.

Thrusting the thought determinedly aside, she watched the big limousine swing smoothly round the curve of the drive and pull up in front of the house, and there was no trace of reluctance in the smile of greeting which she summoned up for Major Durward’s benefit as he alighted and came towards her with outstretched hand.

“But where are the others?” asked Sara, seeing that the chauffeur immediately headed the car for the garage.

“They’re coming along on foot,” explained Durward.  “Elisabeth declared they should see nothing of the place cooped up in the car, so they got out at the lodge and are walking across the park.”

Sara preceded him into the hall, and they stood chatting together by the tea-table until the sound of voices announced the arrival of the rest of the party.

“Here they are!” exclaimed Durward, hurrying forward to meet them, while Sara followed a trifle hesitatingly, conscious of a sudden accession of shyness.