CHAPTER XV.
THE SISTERS.
In the spacious, handsomely-furnished drawing-room of a large country-house, two ladies sat on a quiet evening in autumn.

The large bay window looked out over extensive grounds to the blue hills beyond.
In the pale evening sky the crescent moon hung like a silver boat, the trees in the quiet air looked black as if drawn in ink.

In the grate a large wood fire crackled, which the elder lady seemed much to enjoy as she rubbed her hands one over another on her knee, and spoke in a low, purring tone.

The younger occupant of the room was a girl about twenty years of age; she was fair and fragile-looking compared with her portly companion, who was rather florid in complexion.
"Put your work away, my dear," said the elder lady; "it is getting too dark for you to see." "This is the last petal, auntie," said the girl, still bending her head with its wealth of golden hair over her work.

At last with a satisfied "There!" she laid it on the table and turned towards the bay window, through which might be seen a fair view of the park, with its undulating knolls and clumps of trees, between which wound in flowing curves the well-kept drive leading to the high road.
"You had better ring for the lights, Gwladys," said the elder lady, as she settled herself to what she called "five minutes' snooze," a slumber which generally lasted till dinner-time.
"There is a carriage coming down the drive; what can it be, auntie ?" But auntie was already in dreamland, and Gwladys stood still at the window watching with curiosity the vehicle which drew nearer and nearer.
"The fly from the Red Dragon at Monmouth! who can it be ?" and her blue eyes opened wide as she saw alighting from it a girl in a quiet black travelling dress.