Then he raised his head--for he heard a sound, and knew that she was returning.
Great drops of anguish fell from his brow--over his handsome face had come a terrible change; it had grown fierce with pain, haggard with despair, white with sorrow.
Looking up, he saw her--she was at the other end of the gallery; he saw the tall, slender figure and the sweeping dress--he saw the white arms with their graceful contour, the golden hair, the radiant face--and he groaned aloud; he saw her looking up at the pictures as she passed slowly along--the ancestral Arleighs of whom he was so proud.

If they could have spoken, those noble women, what would they have said to this daughter of a felon?
She paused for a few minutes to look up at her favorite, Lady Alicia, and then she came up to him and stood before him in an the grace of her delicate loveliness, in all the pride of her dainty beauty.

She was looking at the gorgeous Titian near him.
"Norman," she said, "the sun has turned those rubies into drops of blood--- they looked almost terrible on the white throat.

What a strange picture! What a tragical face!" Suddenly with outstretched arms she fell on her knees at his side.
"Oh, my darling, what has happened?
What is the matter ?" She had been away from him only half an hour, yet it seemed to him ages since he had watched her leave the gallery with a smile on her lips.
"What is it, my darling ?" she cried again.

"Dear Norman, you look as though the shadow of death had passed over you.