THE blight, so to speak, that had fallen upon Runnell Hall through the tragic death of its owner continued, and Mrs. Lacey and her daughter lived their shadowed lives almost in seclusion. A few visitors, friends and relatives, had come and gone, but they failed to revive the old gaiety of the home. Norah had grown very subdued. Jim Spedwick’s name was a dead letter in the house, and Mrs. Lacey was hopeful that time would serve to cure her daughter of what she had always considered “a mad infatuation,” and that ultimately Pym’s suit would prosper. She still regarded Pym with something more than affectionate interest, and though she made a pretence of being neutral she encouraged him in his attention to her daughter. The good lady suffered from a form of acrisia and was incapable of seeing h
