CHAPTER I.
ENTER THE DUCHESS.
The peaceful stillness of an English summer afternoon brooded over the park and gardens at Overdene.

A hush of moving sunlight and lengthening shadows lay upon the lawn, and a promise of refreshing coolness made the shade of the great cedar tree a place to be desired.
The old stone house, solid, substantial, and unadorned, suggested unlimited spaciousness and comfort within; and was redeemed from positive ugliness without, by the fine ivy, magnolia trees, and wistaria, of many years' growth, climbing its plain face, and now covering it with a mantle of soft green, large white blooms, and a cascade of purple blossom.
A terrace ran the full length of the house, bounded at one end by a large conservatory, at the other by an aviary.

Wide stone steps, at intervals, led down from the terrace on to the soft springy turf of the lawn.

Beyond--the wide park; clumps of old trees, haunted by shy brown deer; and, through the trees, fitful gleams of the river, a narrow silver ribbon, winding gracefully in and out between long grass, buttercups, and cow-daisies.
The sun-dial pointed to four o'clock.
The birds were having their hour of silence.

Not a trill sounded from among the softly moving leaves, not a chirp, not a twitter.