His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. ‘I am far from imagining anything of the kind. She saw me, and, Lady Ferringhall, I shall never forget her look as long as I live. She pulled down her veil and made her way to the door. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. Montressor’s guests were.
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