She said this with the same bitter smile. Stanley Lake looked for a
moment disposed to break into one of his furies, but instead he only
laughed his unpleasant laugh.

'Well, I'm thinking too, and I find it quite possible to be vexed at the
same time. I assure you, Dorcas, I really am busy; and it is too bad to
have one's time wasted in solemn lectures about stuff and nonsense. Do
make Rachel explain herself, if she can--_I_ have no objection, I assure
you; but I must be permitted to decline undertaking to interpret that
oracle.' And so saying, Stanley Lake glided into the library and shut the
door with an angry clap.

Dorcas did not deign to look after him. She had heard his farewell
address, looking from the window at the towering and sombre clumps of her
ancestral trees--pale, proud, with perhaps a peculiar gleam of
resentment--or malignity--in her exquisite features.

So she stood, looking forth on her noble possessions--on terraces--'long
rows of urns'--noble timber--all seen in slanting sunlight and long
shadows--and seeing nothing but the great word FOOL! in letters of flame
in the air before her.




CHAPTER XLVII.

A THREATENING NOTICE.