into the dining-room, I at once concluded that
she was the governess. I observed, however,
that she made an excellent dinner; she seemed
to appreciate both the beef and the tart as
well as a glass of claret afterwards; probably
she had had no luncheon, or the journey had
given her an appetite.

The dinner ended, the ladies retired, and
after the usual port, Mr. Kirkbeck and I joined
them in the drawing-room. By this time,
however, a much larger party had assembled.
Brothers and sisters-in-law had come in from their
residences in the neighbourhood, and several
children, with Miss Hardwick, their governess,
were also introduced to me. I saw at once that
my supposition as to the lady in black being
the governess was incorrect. After passing
the time necessarily occupied in complimenting
the children, and saying something to the
different persons to whom I was introduced, I
found myself again engaged in conversation
with the lady of the railway carriage, and as
the topic of the evening had referred principally
to portrait-painting, she continued the subject.

"Do you think you could paint my portrait?"
the lady inquired.

"Yes, I think I could, if I had the
opportunity."

"Now, look at my face well; do you think
you should recollect my features?"

"Yes, I am sure I should never forget your
features."

"Of course I might have expected you to
say that; but do you think you could do me
from recollection?"

"Well, if it be necessary, I will try; but
can't you give me any sittings?"

"No, quite impossible; it could not be. It
is said that the print I showed to you before
dinner is like me; do you think so?"

"Not much," I replied; " it has not your
expression. If you can give me only one sitting, it
would be better than none."

"No; I don't see how it could be."

The evening being by this time rather far
advanced, and the chamber candles being brought
in, on the plea of being rather tired, she shook
me heartily by the hand, and wished me good
night. My mysterious acquaintance caused me
no small pondering during the night. I had
never been introduced to her, I had not seen
her speak to any one during the entire evening,
not even to wish them good night—how she got
across the country was an inexplicable mystery.
Then, why did she wish me to paint her from
memory, and why could she not give me even
one sitting? Finding the difficulties of a solution
to these questions rather increase upon me,
I made up my mind to defer further consideration
of them till breakfast-time, when I supposed
the matter would receive some elucidation.

The breakfast now came, but with it no lady
in black. The breakfast over, we went to church,
came home to luncheon, and so on through the
day, but still no lady, neither any reference to
her. I then concluded that she must be some
relative, who had gone away early in the morning
to visit another member of the family living
close by. I was much puzzled, however, by no
reference whatever being made to her, and finding
no opportunity of leading any part of my
conversation with the family towards the subject,
I went to bed the second night more puzzled
than ever. On the servant coming in in the
morning, I ventured to ask him the name of the
lady who dined at the table on the Saturday
evening, to which he answered:

"A lady, sir? No lady, only Mrs. Kirkbeck,
sir."

"Yes, the lady that sat opposite me dressed
in black?"

"Perhaps, Miss Hardwick, the governess,
sir?"

"No, not Miss Hardwick; she came down
afterwards."

"No lady as I see, sir."

"Oh dear me, yes, the lady dressed in black
that was in the drawing-room when I arrived,
before Mr. Kirkbeck came home?"

The man looked at me with surprise as if he
doubted my sanity, and only answered, "I
never see any lady, sir," and then left.

The mystery now appeared more impenetrable
than ever—I thought it over in every possible
aspect, but could come to no conclusion upon
it. Breakfast was early that morning, in order
to allow of my catching the morning train to
London. The same cause also slightly hurried
us, and allowed no time for conversation beyond
that having direct reference to the business that
brought me there; so, after arranging to return
to paint the portraits on that day three weeks,
I made my adieus, and took my departure for
town.

It is only necessary for me to refer to my
second visit to that house, in order to state that
I was assured most positively, both by Mr. and
Mrs. Kirkbeck, that no fourth person dined at
the table on the Saturday evening in question.
Their recollection was clear on the subject, as
they had debated whether they should ask Miss
Hardwick, the governess, to take the vacant
seat, but had decided not to do so; neither could
they recal to mind any such person as I
described in the whole circle of their acquaintance.

Some weeks passed. It was close upon
Christmas. The light of a short winter day
was drawing to a close, and I was seated
at my table, writing letters for the evening
post. My back was towards the folding-doors
leading into the room in which my visitors
usually waited. I had been engaged some
minutes in writing, when, without hearing or
seeing anything, I became aware that a person
had come through the folding-doors, and was
then standing beside me. I turned, and beheld
the lady of the railway carriage. I suppose
that my manner indicated that I was somewhat
startled, as the lady, after the usual salutation,
said, "Pardon me for disturbing you. You did
not hear me come in." Her manner, though it
was more quiet and subdued than I had known it