Lady Carrington and I went to St. Margaret's, Westminster, to see my father married to Lady Helen Dalrymple. I had never witnessed a marriage ceremony before, and thought it a very dull and dreary affair. My ideas with regard to a bride had always been that she must be exceedingly young and very beautiful, and now, when I saw Lady Helen, all drooping and fragile, and in my opinion quite old, not even her beautiful Honiton lace veil, nor her exquisite dress of some shimmering material, appealed to me in the very least. It was with difficulty I could keep the tears out of my eyes by fixing them firmly on the back of my father's head. I noticed again how bald he was getting, but then his shoulders were very broad, and he did not stoop in the least, and he had a splendid manly sort of air. As I listened to the marriage service, I could not help thinking of that other time, ages ago in his life, when he took my young mother to wife, my mother who had died when I was a baby. He was young then, and so was the bride – oh, I had no sympathy with his second marriage!

Lady Carrington insisted on my wearing a white dress, and when the ceremony was over, we all went to the Westminster hotel, where there were light refreshments, and tea and coffee, and champagne, which I hated, and would only take in the smallest sips. By and by, Lady Helen went upstairs to change her dress. She came down again in a magnificent "creation" – for that was the word I heard the ladies around me describing it by – and a huge picture hat on her head. She kissed me once or twice at the very last moment, and told me to be a good child. I hated kisses as much as I hated her, but father, dear father, made up for everything. He caught me in his arms and squeezed me tightly to his breast, and said: "God for ever bless you, dear little woman!" and then they went away, and Lady Carrington and I gazed at each other.

"Now, my dear Heather," she said cheerfully, "we are going to motor back to my house in order to change our dresses, so as to be in time for Captain Carbury when he brings his car round for us. You remember, dear, that we are going to Hampton Court to-day, and we haven't a minute to spare."

"Oh, not a minute," I replied, and I tried to feel cheered up and excited.

After a time Captain Carbury made his appearance, and if I had no other reason for wishing to behave bravely just then, I would not for the world show cowardice before the man who had put me into his gallery of heroines.

We motored down to Hampton Court, and the Captain proved himself to be a very merry guide, so much so that I found myself laughing in spite of my sorrow, and whenever I did so Lady Carrington gave me an approving smile.

"I have been telling Heather about you and Dorothy, Vernon," she said, after we had been all over the old palace, and found ourselves having tea at one of the hotels which faced the river.

Captain Carbury gave me a quick glance, a little puzzled, a little sad, a sort of glance which amazed me at the time, and the meaning of which I was not to understand until afterwards.

"You must get to know Dorothy some day," he said. "I have her picture here" – he tapped his watch-pocket – "I will show it you by and by."

As he said this, he looked full into my eyes, and I noticed more than ever the sad expression in his. I wondered at this, and then my thoughts wandered to Lady Dorothy Vinguard. What sort of a girl was she? Was she nice enough to marry the man who occupied a place in my gallery of heroes?

I spent a fairly happy fortnight with Lady Carrington. She was kindness itself to me, and she gave me a great deal of valuable advice. She took me to see many interesting sights, and Captain Carbury came to the house almost every day. One day he brought Lady Dorothy to see me. I was seated in the inner drawing-room when a tall, very pale, slender girl, most beautifully dressed, entered the room. Her face was exactly like that of a waxen doll; it had not a scrap of expression in it, neither was it in the very least disagreeable. My first impression when I looked at her was that she wanted intelligence, but then I changed my mind, for her light-blue eyes were peculiarly watchful, and she kept looking and looking at me, as though she would read me through. It was impossible to tell whether Captain Carbury was devoted to her or not; she ordered him about a good deal, and he obeyed her slightest behests. She kept all the conversation to herself, too, and neither he nor I could edge in a word. I never met anyone who talked so fast, and yet who seemed to say nothing at all. Each subject she began to speak about she changed for another before we had begun even to think of what we meant to reply. Thus her conversation gave me at last a feeling of intense fatigue, and I wondered how a really clever and earnest-minded man like Captain Carbury could endure the thought of spending his life with her.

He went out of the room after a time, and then she told me, with a great yawn, that he was a perfect lover, and that she herself was intensely happy.

"You, of course, will fall in love and get engaged some day," she said. "You are rather good-looking, in the old-world style; personally, I admire the up to date sort of beauty myself, and so, I know, does Vernon. He hates the people who are, as he expresses it, 'all fire and flash in the pan.' That is, I am sure, how he would describe you, if he troubled himself to describe you at all."

"I don't think he would," I said, turning very red. I longed to tell this haughty girl that I was in his gallery of heroines, but I felt instinctively that such a piece of information would only make her jealous, and therefore I refrained.

By and by Captain Carbury returned, and they both went away. She certainly was very dainty. She was like a piece of exquisite china, and, as I said afterwards to Lady Carrington, when she wanted to get my opinion with regard to her:

"I felt almost afraid to look at her, for fear she should break."

Lady Carrington laughed at my description, and said she did not know that I was such a keen observer of character.

This was my very last day with my kindest of friends, for on the next I was to go to Lady Helen's house in Hanbury Square. I knew nothing whatever with regard to this part of London, nor where the smartest houses were, nor where the "classy people," as they called themselves, resided, but Lady Carrington informed me that Hanbury Square was in the very heart of the fashionable world, and that Lady Helen's house was one of the largest and handsomest in the whole square.

"But why is it called Lady Helen's house?" I asked. "Surely it is my father's."

"Of course it is," she replied, and she looked a little grave, just as though she were holding something back. How often I had seen that look in her face – and how often, how very often, had it puzzled me, and how completely I had failed to understand it. I did love Lady Carrington; she was good to me, and when I bade her good-bye the next morning the tears filled my eyes.

"Now understand, Heather," she said, "that whenever you want me I am at your service. A new life is opening before you, my child, but I shall, of course, be your friend, for your dead mother's sake, and for – "

"Yes, yes?" I cried. "Say the rest, say the rest!"

"And, little Heather, for the memory of what your father was."

"I don't understand you," I said; "you hint and hint things against my own darling father – oh! don't do it again! Speak out if you must, but don't hint things ever again!"

"Think nothing of my words," said Lady Carrington; "forget that they were uttered. Don't turn against me, little Heather; you may need my friendship."

I was, indeed, to need that friendship, and right soon. But I felt almost angry with Lady Carrington as I drove away.

Certainly the house in Hanbury Square was very smart; it had all been newly got-up, in preparation for the bride. There was new paint outside, and new paint and beautiful wainscots and soft papers within, and there were flower-boxes at every window, and the floors were covered with heavy-piled carpets, and there were knick-knacks and flowers and very costly furniture greeting one at each turn. It was a big house, in short a mansion, with front stairs and back stairs, and rooms innumerable. A very lovely room had been set aside for me. It was called the "Forget-me-not" room, and was on the first floor. I had a bathroom, with hot and cold water laid on, quite to myself; I also had a dressing-room, with a wonderful toilet table and wash-hand stand and appliances for the toilet. And in my bedroom was a great wardrobe made of walnut wood, and the beautiful little bed had lace-trimmed pillow-slips and sheets. Until I entered this room I had never even imagined such luxury.

A very neat, quiet-looking girl, who told me her name was Morris, met me on the threshold of my room.

"I am your special maid, miss," she said. "Lady Helen said I was to do everything in my power to help you."

"But you are not Anastasia," I replied.

The girl started back, and stared at me.

"Who is Anastasia, miss?" she asked, after a minute's pause.

"Oh," I answered, "Anastasia is my dear old nurse; she brought me home from India years and years ago, and afterwards I lost her. I want father to find her again for me, for I really wish her to be my maid."

"You will perhaps speak to my mistress, miss," replied Morris, in a demure voice.

"Why so?" I asked. "I shall speak to my father, Major Grayson."

The girl made no answer, but I noticed that a smile, a peculiar smile, lingered round her lips.

"Perhaps, miss," she said, after a pause, "I had best begin to unpack your trunks, for her ladyship and the Major may be here by tea time, and, of course, you will like to be ready to meet them, and you'd wish me to arrange your hair, and help you on with your afternoon frock before they come."

I took some keys out of a little bag I wore at my side.

"Do as you please," I said.

I sat on a low chair and watched her. Then I said, suddenly:

"I am horribly sick of dress!"

"Oh, miss!" remarked Morris, raising her placid face to mine, for she was on her knees by this time, unfastening my largest trunk, "I did think that young ladies lived for their dress."

"Well, I am not one of those young ladies," was my reply. "I never thought of dress until a few weeks ago. I used to put on the dress I was to wear when I first got up in the morning, and I never thought of it again until I took it off to go to bed."

"You must have lived in a very quiet way, miss."

"I lived in a sensible way," I replied.

"I should not like it for myself, miss."

"Perhaps not, perhaps you are vain – I can't bear vain people."

The girl coloured, and bent again over the trunk. I rested my elbows on my knees, pressed my hands against my cheeks, and stared at her.

"I don't wish to offend you, Morris," I said; "I want us two to be friends."

"Thank you, miss."

"But I do wish to say," I continued, "that I consider it awfully frivolous to have to put on a special dress for morning, and another dress for afternoon, and yet another dress, just when tea comes in, and another dress for dinner. Privately, I think it quite wicked, and I am sure you must agree with me."

"It is what's done in society, miss," answered the girl. "They all do like that, those who move in the best society."

She began to unpack rapidly, and I watched her. I reflected within myself that I had left Hill View with no clothes except the ones I was wearing, and what were contained in my tiny trunks. Now I had several big trunks, and they were crammed, pressed full, with the newest and most wonderful dresses; and besides the dresses there were mantles, and coats, and opera cloaks, and all sorts of the most exquisite, the most perfect underclothing in the world. Morris was a quick lady's maid; she evidently understood her duties thoroughly well. She had soon unpacked my trunks, and then she suggested that I should wear a dress of the palest, most heavenly blue, in order to greet her ladyship and Major Grayson. I said, "Is it necessary?" and she replied, "Certainly it is," and after that I submitted to her manipulations. She helped me into my dress, arranged my hair in a simple and very becoming manner, and then she looked at me critically.

"Am I all right now?" I asked.

"Yes, miss, I think you will do beautifully."

I thanked her, and ran downstairs. There were three, or even four drawing-rooms to the house, each one opening into the other. I chose the smallest drawing-room, ensconced myself in an easy-chair, and tried to imagine that I was about to enjoy everything; but my heart was beating horribly, and I came to the conclusion that every one of the four drawing-rooms was hideous. They were not the least like the reception rooms at Lady Carrington's. There the furniture was rich, and yet simple; there was no sense of overcrowding, the tables were not laden with knick-knacks, and there were comparatively few chairs and lounges, only just enough for people to use. The walls were undecorated, except by one or two pictures, the works of masters. There were not more than two pictures in each room, for Lady Carrington had assured me that pictures were the richest ornaments of all, and I fully agreed with her. Now these rooms were totally different – the chairs, the tables, the sofas, the lounges, the grand piano, the little piano, the harpsichord, the spinning-wheel, the pianola, gave one a sense of downright oppression. The walls were laden with pictures of every sort and description – some of them I did not admire in the very least; and there was old china and old glass, very beautiful, I had little doubt, but to me extremely inharmonious. I discovered soon that what these rooms needed was a sense of rest. There was not a single spot where the eye could remain quiet; wherever one looked one felt inclined to start and exclaim, and jump up and examine. I came to the conclusion that I preferred Aunt Penelope's very plain little drawing-room at home to this.

By and by an exceedingly tall young man in smart blue livery threw open the folding doors, and another equally tall young man in the same livery entered with a silver tray. The man who first came into the room pulled out a table and placed the tray on it, and presently a third man appeared with quantities of food. The first man poked up the fire, the second acquainted me with the fact that tea was quite ready, and afterwards the three left the room, closing the door softly behind them. Their velvet tread oppressed me; I wanted the door to bang; I wanted to hear a good, loud, wholesome noise.

Yes, I was at home in my father's house, but truth to tell, I had never felt less home-like in the whole course of my life. I poured myself out a cup of tea, and ate a morsel of bread and butter. Suddenly, before I had finished my first cup of tea, I heard quick sounds in the hall; there were footsteps, and several voices speaking together; people seemed to be rushing hither and thither, and I heard a staccato voice mingling with the tones of a deep one, a deep one that I knew and loved. Then the voices and the footsteps came nearer, until a big man and a lady entered the outer drawing-room and came straight into the little room where I was sitting. The man smiled all over his face, said, "Hallo, little woman!" caught me up in his arms and kissed me; the lady said coldly, "How do you do, child? Pour me out a cup of tea, and be quick; I am fainting with exhaustion. Gordon, will you go upstairs and take your great-coat off, and then come down and have tea like a Christian?"

"Oh, but he must stay," I answered, for I was feeling his face and kissing him over and over, and rubbing my cheek against his.

"'Oh, but he must stay,' I answered"."Gordon, please go at once," said his wife.My hands were released, the blue eyes of Major Grayson looked full into mine. Certainly father's eyes were the most wonderful in all the world. They seemed to me to hold within their depths a mixture of every sort of emotion, of fun, of reluctant, half ashamed, half pleased, half boyish penitence, of sorrow, of a pathos which was always there and always half hidden, and also of a queer and indescribable nobility, which, notwithstanding the fact that I had not seen him for years, and notwithstanding the other fact that he had married a worldly woman when he might have made me so happy, seemed to have grown and strengthened on his face. He kissed one of his hands to me, raised Lady Helen's jewelled hand to his lips, bowed to her, smiled, and departed."He has charming manners," she said, and then she turned to me."Bring me food, child," she said; "I want you to wait on me to-day; I am tired; we had a very rough crossing. To-morrow I shall take you in hand, but you are tremendously improved already. Yes, your father has delightful manners – we shall win through yet; but it will be a battle.""What do you mean by 'winning through'?" I asked."Nothing that you need interfere about," she answered, a little sharply; "only listen to me once for all. I am not Lady Helen Dalrymple for nothing, and when I stoop to conquer I do conquer. Now then, fetch me the cake basket; I am ravenously hungry and have a passion for chocolate."I gave her what she required, and she ate without looking at me, her sharp eyes wandering round and round the room."Why, how hideous!" she suddenly exclaimed. "How more than wrong of Clarkson! I gave orders that the curtains in this room were to be rose-pink; those dull blue abominations must come down; we won't have them – they'd try anyone's complexion. Child, for goodness' sake don't stare! And yet, come and let me look at you. That blue dress suits you; but then you are young, and you have a complexion for blue."She patted my hand for a minute, then she yawned profoundly."I am glad to be home," she said. "A honeymoon when you are no longer young is fatiguing, to say the least of it, and I am sick of hotel life. I have already sent out my 'At Home' invitations, and for the next few days the house will be crammed every afternoon. You will have to be present – why, of course, you will – don't knit your brows together like that. I mean to be a good stepmother to you, Heather. Ah, here comes Gordon. Gordon, you look very presentable now. Sit close to me on this sofa, and let Heather give you some tea. It's nice to have one's own girl to wait on one, isn't it?""Profoundly nice," said the Major; "exquisitely nice. To think that we have a child of our very own, Helen!""I don't think about it," replied Lady Helen. "It isn't my custom to wear myself out going into raptures, but, Gordon, I am very seriously displeased about those curtains.""Curtains, dear – what ails them? I see nothing wrong in them.""But I do. I told Clarkson's people rose-colour, soft rose-colour, and they sent blue – I will never get anything at Clarkson's again.""They must be changed, sweetest one," replied my father.I was giving him a cup of tea just then, and my hand shook. My stepmother noticed this; she said, in a sharp voice: "Heather, get me a fan; that fire will spoil my complexion."I fetched her one. She held it between herself and the fire."By the way, Gordon," she said suddenly, "we had better tell the child now.""Oh, what?" I asked in some astonishment and also alarm."Really, Heather, you need not give way to such undue excitement. A year of my training will completely change you. I only wished to mention the fact that your name is no longer Grayson; in future you are Heather Dalrymple. Your father and I have agreed that you both take my name; that is a thing often done when there is a question of money. I hold the purse strings. I am a very generous person as regards money; Major, dear, you can testify to that.""I can, Helen. There never was your like, you are wonderful.""You therefore are little Heather Dalrymple in future," continued my stepmother, "and your father and I are Major and Lady Helen Dalrymple. It's done, child, it's settled; the lawyers have arranged it all. Grayson is a frightful name; you ought to be truly thankful that it is in my power to change it for you. You need not even wait for your marriage; the change takes place at once.""But I prefer my own name," I answered. "I don't want to have your name. Father, please speak – father, I am not Heather Dalrymple!""Oh, make no fuss about it, child," replied my father. "I have long ago come to the wise conclusion that nothing wears one out like making a fuss. Now, my dear, good, sweet, little Heather, I grieve to have to tell you that your disposition promises to land you in old age before your time. You fuss about everything. You fussed yourself almost into your grave when I was obliged to leave you with Penelope Despard, and yet how good poor old Pen was to you all the time! And then you were very impolite to your new mother when you heard that I was about to be married.""Oh, I am willing to forget and forgive all that," said Lady Helen. "The child was young and taken by surprise. We enter to-day a new world. I do my best for her; she must do her best for me. If you are a good girl, Heather, you will see what a happy life you will have as my daughter.""Please, please, father," I said, suddenly, "may I have Anastasia to be my maid? There is a girl upstairs who calls herself Morris, and she says she is my maid, but I really do want Anastasia back.""Ask her ladyship, and do it in a pretty way," said my father, and he gave my hand a playful pinch."And this carpet," muttered Lady Helen. "I particularly said that the carpet was to be of a pale green, that sort of very soft green which sets off everything, and it is – goodness gracious! – it is a sort of pale blue, not even the tone of the curtains. How atrocious! Yes, Heather, yes – what is it?""I do want to ask you, please," I said, "if Anastasia may come back?""Anastasia?" said Lady Helen. "I have never heard of her. Who is she?""She used to be my nurse when I was in India, and she sailed with father and me in the good ship Pleiades. Oh, father! don't you remember the charm you gave me, and how we talked of gentle gales and prosperous winds? And, father, here's the charm, the dear old charm!""When you talk to me," said Lady Helen, "you will have the goodness to look at me. You want the woman – what did you say her name was?""Anastasia. It's quite a nice name," I answered. "I want her to be my maid instead of Morris.""To be your maid?""Please, please, Lady Helen.""Can she sew? Can she make blouses? Can she arrange hair fashionably? Can she put on your dress as it ought to be put on? I may as well say at once that I don't intend to take a pale, gawky girl about with me. You must look nice, as you can and will, if you have a proper maid, and I attend to your clothes. Can she alter your dresses when they get a little outré? In short, is the woman a lady's maid at all?""She used to be my nurse, and I love her," I answered stoutly."I cannot possibly have her back. Don't speak of it again. And now, Heather, I have something else to say. When you address me you are not to call me 'Lady Helen,' you are to say 'Mother.' The fact is, I can't stand sentimental nonsense. Your own mother has been in her grave for many years. If I am to act as a mother to you, I intend to have the title. Now say the word; say this – say, 'Please, mother, may I go upstairs to my private sitting-room, and may I leave you and father alone together?' Say the words, Heather."I turned very cold, and I have no doubt my face was white."Yes, Heather, say the words," cried father.His blue eyes were extremely bright, and there was a spot of vivid colour on both his cheeks. He looked at me with such a world of longing, such an expression of almost fear, that for his sake I gave in."I will do what you wish for my father's sake," I said, slowly. "I am not your child, and you are not my mother. My mother is in her grave, and when she lived her name was Grayson, not Dalrymple; but if it makes father happy for me to say 'mother,' I will say it.""It makes me most oppressively happy, my little Heather," cried my father."Then I will do it for you, Daddy," I said.Lady Helen frowned at me. I went slowly out of the room.CHAPTER IXIt is doubtless the law of life to get, more or less quickly, according to one's nature, accustomed to everything. In about six weeks I, who had lived so quietly with Aunt Penelope, had settled down to my new existence. I was spoken of as Lady Helen's daughter, and invariably addressed as Miss Dalrymple. I was dressed according to Lady Helen's wishes, and I was taken here, there, and everywhere. What I did notice, however, was that although Lady Helen, my father, and I went to numerous concerts, and although Lady Helen had her box at the opera, and took a box frequently at the theatres, and although we often dined at the Savoy, and the Carlton, and the Ritz hotels, and on all these occasions my gallant-looking father accompanied us, yet when we went into so-called Society he was hardly ever present. I asked Lady Helen the reason one day. I said to her: "It is so dull without father. Why doesn't he come with us?"On this occasion she frowned and looked anxious; then she said: "Oh, we shall manage it, probably, by next year; we must not be too eager. People forget very quickly, and we must not expect too much this year, but next year doubtless things will be all right.""But what can there be to forget?" I said."Nothing, nothing at all," she replied. "Don't be so inquisitive, child."Meanwhile, I will own that I was having a good time – that is, if admiration, expressed and unexpressed, could give it to me. Lady Helen was proud of me when she saw people flocking round me and when she observed that the nicest men asked me to dance, and the ladies whose houses she was most anxious to get invited to sent me also invitations. She made a fuss over me, and petted me according to her lights. So I was happy in a kind of fashion, although, to tell the truth, there were times over and again when I felt very like a prisoner – a prisoner in a gilt cage.One day something rather peculiar occurred. I did not think much of it at the time, although I was destined to give it several thoughts later on. Lady Helen received a letter amongst many others, which she opened shortly after breakfast. Father was in the room. He was leaning back in a big chair, and was reading The Times. I noticed that father always turned to the army news first in reading any paper; he was looking at the army news at that moment. He was intensely interested about everything to do with the army; and that I could scarcely wonder at, seeing that he himself was a Major in His Majesty's service.Lady Helen opened her letter, turned a little white, and flung it across the table to father."There!" she said. "What are we to do now?"Father took up the letter and read it slowly. His face did not look exactly white, but a very peculiar mottled sort of colour spread slowly over his cheeks, and his eyes became fierce and wild. As a rule, he was quick and eager in his movements, but now he rose up deliberately, stamped his foot, and crossing the room, put the letter into a small fire which was burning in the grate."Gordon, why have you done that?" said Lady Helen."Because your brother will not enter this house," was his reply."Ah, poor fellow!" she exclaimed. "And am I never to see him? I must see him – I will! Child, go out of the room.""No, child, you are to stay here," said my father. He swept his arm round my waist, and drew me down to sit close to him. I could feel that he was trembling all over. Lady Helen got up."Heather, I wish you to leave the room.""Darling father, come to me presently to my own room," I whispered. "Do, please – what – mother wishes – now."I brought out the words with an effort."You are a plucky girl, my darling," he said, kissing me. "Well, then, go – I will come to you by and by."I was glad to escape. I ran up to my room, and sank down into an easy-chair. Morris, who constantly walked out with me in the morning, came in to know if she was to do anything, but I sent her away. I took up a book, I tried to read, I put it down again; I could not fix my attention on anything. Oh, never, never before had I seen father's eyes blaze with such fire, and never before had I seen Lady Helen at once angry and cowed. What were they saying to each other now? Until that moment I had not guessed that Lady Helen had a brother. Who was he, and why could not he come? Why should father be so angry? Why should father have burnt his letter? Why did father tremble from head to foot, and try to keep me in the room? Ah! I heard his step on the stairs. I ran to my door and flung it open."Daddy, daddy, come in!" I said.He strode towards me; in a minute he was in the room, and had clasped me to his heart."Upon my word, little woman," he said, "upon my word, I have gone through a pretty scene!""Sit down and rest, Daddy darling; don't talk for a minute or two. This is my room, and you are my visitor, and you shall do just as you like.""Smoke a pipe, for instance?" he asked, giving me a quizzical glance."Indeed you may and shall," I said. I began to poke in his pocket for his pipe, and when I found it filled it for him and lit it, as I used to do when I was a small child; then I gave it to him to smoke."You are a dear little thing," he said. "You are the comfort of my life."His pipe and the peace of my room seemed to soothe him wonderfully, but over and over I heard him mutter, "Upon my word!" and then I heard him say, "No, not quite that; I have done a good bit for her ladyship, but that scoundrel – she must know that he can never come here.""Daddy, what is wrong?" I asked.He took his pipe out of his mouth, gave a profound sigh, and looked me full in the face."There's nothing wrong at all," he said. "I was in a bit of a passion – not a temper – a passion – my passion was right and justifiable, but her ladyship's nearly all right now.""And won't you let her brother come to see her, Daddy?""Stop that, Heather; you are not to question me.""Then he is not coming?" I said."That man shall never darken my doors.""Daddy!""Miss Curiosity is not to know the reason," he said, smiling once more and pinching my cheek. "Now then, look here. Her ladyship is in a bit of a tiff – oh, not much; she'll be herself by this evening. You and she are going to a very big affair to-night, and what do you say to our enjoying a very big affair to-day? Richmond, eh? in her ladyship's motor, eh? and no questions asked, eh, eh?""Oh, father, how truly rapturous!""Well, then, we'll do it. Get Morris to make you look as smart as possible, and I will order the motor-car to come round. Now, then, off with you!"I flew to get ready, and father and I had a very happy day together. As we were coming back in the motor-car, just in time for me to get dressed for that great function which he would not attend, I said to him: "Daddy, I thought that when people were a long time in the army – ""Eh, eh?" he said. "What about the army?""I thought that they got promotion – I mean you ought to be a full colonel, or even a general, by now.""Little Heather, will you promise with all your heart and soul never to repeat something I am going to say to you?""Of course, I will promise you, my own daddy.""Well, I am not in the army – I haven't been in the army for years.""Daddy!""Now listen, and keep that knowledge deep down in your heart. But for that scoundrel who wanted to pay us a visit I'd have been a general in his Majesty's service now. No more words, Heather; no more words – keep it dark, dark in your heart. I am called Major by her ladyship as a matter of courtesy, but I was snuffed out some time ago, child; yes, snuffed out. Now then, here we are! We've had a good day – very jolly to be alone with my little Heather – life's not half bad when you consider that your own child need not understand every black and evil thing about you. But I am snuffed out for all that, little Heather mine."CHAPTER XAbout a month passed by, and the scene which I have alluded to seemed to have receded like distant smoke. Lady Helen and my father were the best of friends. I went to see Lady Carrington as often as I could, but for some reason Lady Helen Dalrymple and she were only the merest acquaintances, and I could see that Lady Helen was jealous when Lady Carrington invited me to her house. The days I spent with that good woman were the happiest of my life just then, but they were few and far between.I saw very little of father. After our long delightful day at Richmond he seemed to pass more or less out of my life. He seemed to me to be an absolute and complete cipher, so much so that I could not bear to look at him. His hearty, happy, jolly, delightful manners were subdued, his eyes were more sunken than they used to be, and the colour in his cheeks had quite faded. I used to gaze at him with a pang at my heart, and wonder if he were really growing thin. He hardly ever said now, "Hallo, hallo! here we are!" or "Oh, I say, how jolly!" In fact, I never heard any of his old hearty exclamations; but what annoyed me most was that when Lady Helen was present he hardly took any notice of me.Nevertheless, I had my good times, for by now I was tired of sitting up half the night and of going to endless dances and listening to innumerable empty compliments, and being smiled at by men whom I could not take the faintest interest in, and whose names I hardly remembered. But as the summer came on faster and faster, and the London season advanced to its height, I did enjoy my morning walks with Morris. Lady Helen had said something about my having a horse to ride, but up to the present I was not given one, and consequently I walked with Morris, and we invariably went into Hyde Park or Kensington Gardens.I remember a day early in May, when I unexpectedly met Captain Carbury. I was sitting on a chair, with Morris next to me, when I saw him in the distance. He pushed rapidly through a crowd of people, and came up to my side. He took a chair close to mine."Can't you get your maid to walk about for a short time?" he said. "I have something of great importance I want to say to you."I turned towards Morris."Morris, will you kindly go to the first entrance and buy me two shillingsworth of violets?" I said to the girl.Morris rose at once to do what I asked."That's right," said Captain Carbury, when we were alone. "I have such a strange thing to tell you, Miss Grayson.""That isn't my name now," I said."I beg your pardon," he replied, turning a little red, "Miss Dalrymple." Then he added: "I have been wanting to see you for weeks, but did not know how to manage it.""But was there any difficulty?" I asked. "You know where my father and Lady Helen live. You could have called."He coloured and looked down on the ground."We have met at last," he said, after a pause, "and now I have this to tell you.""What?""You saw Dorothy Vinguard once, didn't you?""The girl you are engaged to? Of course.""I am not engaged to her any longer; our engagement is broken off.""Oh, I am sorry," I said, and I looked at him with a world of sympathy in my eyes."Dear little Miss Heather," he replied, "you needn't be sorry, for I assure you I am not.""But why is it broken off?" I asked. "I thought when people were engaged that, if they were nice people, they considered it sacred, and – and kept engaged until they married.""Oh, you dear little innocent!" he replied. "How little you know! Well, at any rate, I am not going to enlighten you with regard to the ways of this wicked world. The engagement is broken off, and I am glad of it. I didn't do it; she did. She has engaged herself now to another man, with five or six times my money. She is all right, and so am I."Then I said slowly, "You puzzle me very much, Captain Carbury. I thought you were very, very fond of her."He dug his stick into the gravel walk near; then he glanced round at me impatiently."You can put all that sort of thing into the past tense," he said. "Now tell me about yourself. How are you getting on?""I am not getting on," I answered."You surprise me! I hear quite the contrary I hear that dear little Miss Heather, who was so kind to me, and did me such immense honour as to put me into her gallery of heroes, is making quite a stir in society. When society begins to appreciate you, Miss Heather, you ought to consider yourself in luck. They say – and by 'they' I mean the people who live in this wicked world, the people who are 'in the know,' you understand – that if you are not engaged to be married before this time next year, you will be the height of the fashion."I found myself colouring very deeply."I don't intend to be either engaged or married," I said; "and to make a stir in society is about the very last thing I should wish.""I wonder what you would wish?" he asked, looking at me attentively.I looked back at him. Then I said, in a low, quiet voice: "I can't quite understand why it is, but I find it very easy to tell you things. Perhaps it is because you are in my gallery and I am in yours.""Yes, of course, that is the reason," he replied, with one of his quick, beautiful smiles."I will tell you what I really want.""Do, Miss Heather – I really can't call you Miss Dalrymple, so it must be Miss Heather.""I don't mind," I answered."Well, now then, out with your greatest wish!""I should like," I said, speaking deliberately, "to leave London, and to go into the heart of the country, to find there a pretty cottage, with woodbine and monthly roses climbing about the walls, and dear little low-ceiled rooms, and little lattice windows, and no sign of any other house anywhere near at all. And I should like beyond words to take father and live with him, all by our two selves, in that cottage. I should not want fine dresses there, and society would matter less than nothing to me."Captain Carbury looked somewhat surprised, then he said, quietly: "About your father; well, of course, I – I can't speak about him, you know, but there's – there's Lady Helen. How would she enjoy your programme?""There would be no programme at all, no dream to be fulfilled, no happiness to be secured, if she went with us," I answered."Oh, I see," he answered; "poor little Miss Heather!" And he whistled softly under his breath.I looked full at him."You don't like her either," I said, and it seemed to me that a new and very strong chord of sympathy sprang up between us as I uttered the words."No," he answered. "I won't say why – I won't give any reasons; she may mean all right, but she's a worldly woman, and I don't care a bit about worldly women. I am afraid you won't have your dream, Miss Heather, so I must tell you what is the next best thing for you to do.""But there is no next best," I replied."Yes, there is. Now listen to me attentively. The very best thing, all circumstances considered, for you to do is to get engaged right away to the sort of fellow who understands you and whom you understand – the sort of man who would put you into his gallery, you know, and whom you would put into your gallery. Oh, yes, you comprehend what I mean. The best thing for you, Miss Heather, is to get engaged to that man, and when once you are engaged not on any account to break off your engagement, but to have it speedily followed by marriage. You'd be as happy as the day is long with the man who understands you, and whom you understood. And, for that matter, you could have your cottage in the country, only it would not be shared by your father but by – well, by the other man – the man who understands you so well, you know.""I don't know," I said; "and I certainly won't marry any man unless I love him.""But you must love him," he said, giving me a long and most earnest glance, "if you put him into your gallery of heroes.""Oh, I don't know," I replied to that. "I can admire immensely without – without loving. Why, Captain Carbury, I have put you in, and – "But then he gave me another glance, and it was so very earnest, and his dark blue eyes looked so very pleading, that suddenly the colour leaped into my cheeks, and I lowered my own eyes and began to tremble all over."It is the best thing for you, Miss Heather," he said, dropping his voice almost to a whisper. "Oh! yes, I know what I am talking about. Lots of girls do dreadful things; they mar their lives fearfully. I'll tell you how they mar them. They – they marry, and not for love.""But I am not one of those girls," I replied."Are you not, really?" he said. "Now, I have heard rumours, oh, yes! – and while the rumours are being circulated, everything sounds very nice and very golden, but – " He bent a little closer, until his arm touched mine.Morris was coming back. I saw her trailing her dress over the grass, and carrying a great basket of violets, white and different shades of blue, in her hand."Listen," he said. "Even if you did not love with all your heart and soul and strength, don't you think that you might just try the man you put into your gallery of heroes? Don't you think you might begin" – he dropped his voice, and it became quite hoarse – "to love him a little?""Oh! oh! oh!" I said; "I could not! You were engaged only a few days ago to Lady Dorothy Vinguard! Why, Captain Carbury, I never even thought of you. I don't love anybody at all, except father – that is – yet.""There's a great deal in the little word 'yet,' Miss Heather. We should not be rich, neither would we be exactly poor, but I am quite sure I could make you happy. Truly, I never really cared for Dorothy. She was thought a good match for me, and all that sort of thing, you know; but she was too statuesque. I want life, I want warmth, I want soul, I want – oh! all the things you could give. I would make you as happy as the day is long; I could, and I would. Then – let me whisper. You need never see her any more. Think of it, dear little Heather! Heather, Morris is quite close, and I must whisper a secret to you. It was from the day I first met you that I began to find out what sort of girl Lady Dorothy really was – I discovered then that there was a better girl in the world than Lady Dorothy. I want a wife like you; I want you, your very self; you, before you learn to love the world and the ways of the world; you – just because you are so young and so pure and sweet. Think of it, think of it, Heather, and don't say no! Wait at least until to-morrow. I will be in this very place at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning, waiting to get your answer."CHAPTER XII do not know how I parted with Vernon Carbury. I cannot recall even to this day whether I shook hands with him or not, or even whether he walked with me as far as the gates of the Park. What I do remember vividly is this: that I went home to Hanbury Square like one walking in a dream. The whole world seemed to me to be filled with a wonderful new light. In the midst of this radiance was one figure, one face; out of the brightness one voice seemed to speak, and one pair of eyes to shine. I was certain I did not in the least love Captain Carbury, but I did know that our meeting had been full of keen excitement, and that I was altogether lifted out of myself into a new and wonderful world. I wanted to be quite alone, to think over what had happened. I was puzzled, too, at the fact that I was trembling, and that my cheeks were hot one minute and that I felt cold all over the next.Morris walked discreetly behind me, and the beautiful smell of the violets came in wafts now and then to my nostrils. During our walk home Morris had not spoken to me. When I reached the house I went straight to my pretty bedroom; I wanted more badly than ever to be quite by myself, but Morris annoyed me. She followed me into my bedroom, carrying the violets."Shall I arrange these in your sitting-room for you, miss?" she asked."Please do," I answered; "and Morris, do not come near me for a time, for I wish to be quite alone.""Certainly, miss. I was to say, please, that the Major and her ladyship have gone on the river, but that lunch will be ready for you whenever you wish for it in the smaller dining-room.""I am not hungry, and I don't wish for lunch," I replied."Shall I bring you up some tea and a lightly boiled egg, miss?""Yes; that will do nicely," I answered.She tripped away, and I shut and locked the door. I could not bear to encounter her face, for it was full of meaning. She treated me as though I were slightly ill, and as though she were my nurse. I hated beyond words the knowledge that she shared my secret with me; but then, of course, I had no secret, for although Vernon Carbury had said those wonderful, those amazing words, I did not love him back again. How was it possible that I, a girl who respected myself, could love a man who a few weeks before had been engaged to another?I sat in my room, leaning back in my comfortable chair; then I started up and paced the floor impatiently; then I tried very hard to make myself angry with Captain Carbury – I wanted to force myself even to hate him a little bit – but I did not succeed. I could only remember the look in his eyes, and the smile on his lips, and the thrill in his voice, when he told me how he cared for me, and I could only recall the fact that I certainly would meet him at eleven o'clock on the following morning in Hyde Park.Morris must share my secret. It was a terrible thing to reflect about, but I could not go to Hyde Park alone; she must, therefore, accompany me. Well, that would end the whole thing. I would tell dear, kind Vernon that all my life long I would remember his good words to me, and that I would ever and ever keep him in my gallery of heroes, but that, of course – and I knew that I must speak very steadily and firmly at this juncture of my conversation – I could never love him, nor, by any possibility, marry him. I should be quite pleased to be his friend, but beyond that anything else was impossible.There came a tap at my door. It was Morris, bearing a tray with some delicately-prepared tea, some fragrant toast, some little pats of delicious butter, on a silver tray, and a nice, fresh, brown egg, lightly boiled. Morris carried the tray in one hand; in the other she held a great basket full of the most exquisite roses I had ever seen in my life."For you, Miss Dalrymple," she said, and she laid the basket of roses on the dressing-table."Oh! oh!" I said. I adored flowers, and I buried my face now in the fragrant blooms."Aren't they beautiful, miss?" remarked Morris. "They must have cost a small fortune."My cheeks were very red indeed, nor did I look up from sniffing at the flowers until Morris had left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Then I rose slowly, and carrying the basket with me, laid it on the floor at my feet. I sat down by the table, where my small lunch awaited me, but I did not care to eat. I began carefully to take one beautiful blossom after another out of the basket. Of course, Vernon Carbury had sent these flowers to me; there was no doubt whatever on the subject. How reckless of him – how wrong of him! And yet, how splendidly nice and delightful of him! But I must speak to him on this very point to-morrow. He was, of course, far from rich, and he must on no account spend his money on me; I would not permit it for a moment. Still, it was delightful to sniff these roses, and to think of him, and to wonder, deep down in my heart, what he could find in a little, insignificant girl like me to love.I had finished my tea and was standing by the window, when, to my amazement, I heard a firm and determined knock at the door. Whoever the person was who waited without, she did not linger long; she turned the handle of the door and entered.It was my stepmother. Her eyes lighted up with pleasure as they fell on the beautiful basket of hothouse roses."Ah!" she said, "I might have guessed as much. This explains everything, and how lovely!""I thought you were on the river," I said."A tiresome thing happened," she replied, "and I have come back. Aren't those flowers lovely?""Yes," I said. I felt quite pleased and surprised at her sympathy. Was it possible that I had been mistaken in her all the time? Was she really the sort of woman who would wish me to care about a man like Captain Carbury?She came up to me and put her hand on my shoulder."Heather," she said, "you are one of the lucky people of the world. I knew that, from the moment I laid my eyes on you; I told your father so, and for some time we both have seen what was coming. Yes; you are of the fortunate ones of the earth. Remember, Heather, in your days of prosperity, that you will always have to thank me for this.""But nothing is coming," I answered, for although I was surprised and liked her for her sympathy, I would not even pretend that I cared for Vernon Carbury. Then I continued: "It was impossible for you to know it, whatever you mean by 'it,' for any length of time, for he has only just broken off – ""He – he has only just broken off!" exclaimed my stepmother. "What are you talking of, child? Really, Heather, you are the most tiresome girl I ever met. What you want, my dear, is an early engagement, and a quick marriage.""Oh, just what – what – ""Now again you interrupt – I cannot understand you in the very least. What do you mean by 'just what – what'?""Nothing, mother," I said. It hurt me awfully to say the word, but I forced myself to do it, for father's sake."I don't believe you know yourself," remarked Lady Helen. "Now, get into your prettiest dress. We are going to motor in the Park, you and I, all by ourselves.""But Where's Daddy?" I asked. "I want Daddy to come with us.""Your father won't be in until dinner-time; he is very busy. By the way, two gentlemen, special friends of mine – and, indeed, I think one of them is a special friend of yours – are coming to dine here to-night.""Oh!" I said. I felt myself changing colour.My stepmother gazed at me, and a curious smile, which I did not like, flitted across her face."Come," she said; "you are a good girl; you are not quite as silly as you seem, and I perceive that you are taking kindly to my arrangements.""Please tell me the names of the gentlemen who are dining here to-night?" I asked."I shall do nothing of the kind. I never give away my pet secrets. You will see them when they come, and I wish you to look your very sweetest and best. That new feathery sort of dress, with the silver embroidery, will exactly suit you. You can wear a great bunch of these roses just here" – she indicated the front of my dress – "and Morris will arrange a few on the skirt. I assure you, with those additions to your white and silver dress, you will, my dear daughter, be irresistible. It isn't every girl who does so well in her first season; but then, it isn't every girl who has the advantage of a mother like me. Now I mustn't waste any more time. Ring for Morris. Tell her that she is to put you into your dark blue costume, with the blue hat to match, and the silver fox fur. Get ready as fast as you can. Ah! here you are, Morris. Attend to Miss Dalrymple, please."CHAPTER XIILady Helen swept out of the room, and Morris began to dress me."It's strange, her ladyship coming back," she remarked. But I was in no mood to exchange confidences with my maid. I said at once: "I suppose Lady Helen can change her mind.""Oh, of course, miss; but all the same it is strange. It means – yes, miss, I know what it means.""Please, Morris, don't talk now; my head aches.""Poor young lady!" said Morris. She gave me a significant look. "If I was you I'd be firm," she said. "It means courage, but you have plenty of spirit. We remark on it in the servants' hall. We say that it would take a great deal to knock Miss Heather's spirit out of her."There was no use in finding fault with Morris. I remained silent."Those roses are superb," she said again, as she arranged my dark blue cloth dress, and got me ready for my drive in the Park with my stepmother.I made no response, but my heart throbbed when she mentioned the roses. I wondered if Captain Carbury were coming to dinner. I forgot altogether the fact that Captain Carbury and my father, for some extraordinary reason, did not wish to meet. As I considered the possibility of the Captain's dining with us that evening, something else happened. I began to long inexpressibly for him. I earnestly hoped he would come, that he would be the person allotted to take me in to dinner, that I should sit by his side, and that I should have an opportunity of scolding him – of course, very gently – with regard to the roses. I made up my mind to tell him that he was foolishly extravagant, and to implore of him not to do such a thing again. It would be impossible for me to be too severe when I was wearing his roses, for I determined just when Morris was arranging my hat at the most becoming angle not to wear the silver thing in my hair, but a bunch of the softest roses, exactly where he would like to see them, nestling behind my ear.Morris was very quick in getting me into my afternoon costume, and a few minutes later my stepmother and I were bowling away in the direction of Hyde Park. There we joined a long procession of carriages and motors. It was a beautiful day, and we both looked around us, enjoying the gay and brilliant scene.Lady Helen was dressed in her usual extravagant style, and her face was covered with a thick veil. She managed by this means to keep all appearance of age at bay, and looked quite an elegant woman of the world as she leaned back in her expensive motor-car with her wonderful sables round her shoulders. By and by a look of excitement flashed from her dark eyes. She desired the chauffeur to stop. We pulled up at the kerb, and a fine, aristocratic-looking man with a slightly withered face and tired grey eyes came forward. I had met him several times at different balls and assemblies. I liked him, and felt that there was even a possibility of our being friends. I regarded him in the light of an uncle."How do you do, Lord Hawtrey?" said Lady Helen.Lord Hawtrey bowed to Lady Helen. Then he bowed to me. His tired eyes lit up with a smile, and he began to talk eagerly. While he talked he looked at me, and each moment it seemed to me that his eyes grew less tired, and the wrinkles seemed to leave his face. He certainly had a very fatherly manner towards me, and I smiled back at him in return, and felt very happy. I noticed on that special occasion, however, that there was a great deal of sadness behind his outward suavity of manner. I pitied him for this, as it was my nature to pity all creatures in the world who were not perfectly happy."I am so glad you are coming to dine to-night," said Lady Helen.So he was one of the guests! Well, that did not matter. Captain Carbury must, of course, be the other. As the motor-car started forward again Lord Hawtrey gave me a long, penetrating, observant glance. It seemed to me afterwards that it was a peculiar glance.Lady Helen was now in the highest spirits, and loud in the praises of his lordship."It is a feather in your cap, my dear," she said, "to be noticed so kindly by a man like Hawtrey. Perhaps you are unaware of the fact that he is one of the most sought-after men in London, because he is one of the best catches of the season.""What do you mean by a catch?" I asked."Oh, you ignorant little thing! But I suppose some people would find a charm in all that. Doubtless he does.""Please do tell me what you mean by a good catch?" I repeated.She laughed disagreeably."A good catch," she said, "is – is – well, let me think – the best fish in the sea, the best trout in the stream, the best – the best – oh, the best of everything; that is, if money means anything, and birth anything, and – charm anything, and the finest house in England anything. That is what a good catch means. Now, perhaps, you understand.""You think, perhaps, that some girl may like to marry Lord Hawtrey?" I said, after a long pause."Some girl will," she exclaimed. "Any girl who is not previously engaged would give her eyes for such a connection."She looked at me intently."But surely," I said, "he is old enough to be a young girl's father?""Your childishness oppresses me," said Lady Helen. "I thought he'd be in the Park; that is the true reason why I came out. I wanted to be certain of him to-night. I think we'll go home now. I am anxious for my tea, and the air is turning chilly."We returned to the house. I was still feeling happy. And this, I had to own to myself, was because of Captain Carbury. I accepted the certain fact, and with a joyful beating of my heart, that he stood between me and my stepmother, that he had placed himself deliberately as a shield between her and me. I remembered, too, that chivalrous, beautiful light in his eyes when he told me that morning that he loved me. Oh, of course, I would not marry for years and years, but it was nice to know that one like Vernon Carbury loved me.Morris was very fidgety about my dress that evening. She was really a splendid maid, and performed her duties deftly and quietly. As a rule, she never made a fuss. She seemed to know what was the right dress for me to wear, and I put it on at her bidding. But to-night she was quite excited. I felt almost sure, as I glanced at her face, that she shared my secret, and once or twice, while I was going through the long and tedious process of the toilet, I longed to ask her if she knew that Captain Carbury was coming to dinner. But something kept me back from uttering the words. I knew I should blush if I asked her that question, and then Morris would be sure. Morris was not sure yet; she could only guess.By and by I was fully dressed. Had Aunt Penelope seen me, she would not have recognised in the radiant girl to whose cheeks excitement had given a passing tinge of colour, to whose eyes excitement had lent the glow which comes straight from the heart, the Heather she had counselled to live the simple life, and walk worthy of her God. Nevertheless, I said to myself, "I should love to kiss the dear old thing to-night."Just then Morris entered the room with a wreath of roses, which she had skilfully twined together. These she fastened with the deftest of deft fingers across the front of my dress. She put another spray of roses on one shoulder, and a little bunch in my hair."Now, if I was you, miss," she said, "I wouldn't wear one jewel. I wouldn't have the string of pearls round my neck, nor anything. I'd just wear these real roses on that silver white dress. Oh, Miss Dalrymple, you do look lovely!""By the way, Morris," I said, suddenly, "where are the violets we bought to-day?""The violets, miss? What have they to do with your toilet?""I want just a very few to pin into the front of my dress," I said. "Fetch me a bowl of them from my sitting-room, and be quick, Morris.""They'll spoil the effect; it's a dreadful pity," said Morris."I must have them," I replied.Morris went and fetched them. I chose a big bunch, and fastening it in a heap, pinned it next the roses at my left side. Then I picked up my fan and gloves and ran downstairs.Lady Helen and my father were both in the big drawing-room. My father's cheeks were blazing with excitement. I had not seen his face look so red for a long time. Lady Helen had evidently been whispering something to him, because when I appeared they started asunder, and looked almost guiltily one at the other. Then my father came up to me, made a low bow, and, taking my hand, raised it to his lips."Nonsense, Daddy!" I said. "I am not going to have you treating me in this formal fashion," and I flung my arms round his neck and kissed him several times."For goodness' sake, Gordon, don't crush her roses!" cried Lady Helen.We started apart, for the first visitor, Lord Hawtrey, was announced. He was greeted by Lady Helen and my father, and then he turned to me. I noticed that he looked me all over, and that his eyes shone with pleasure when he observed my lovely roses. I had never felt shy with Lord Hawtrey, and was not shy now."Do you like my roses?" I said, going to his side."They suit you," was his answer."They were sent to me by a very great friend. I am sure you cannot guess his name," I said.The footman flung the door open again, and a man entered who was called Sir Francis Dolby. He was a tall, very thin man. I knew him slightly. I also disliked him. My heart sank low, very low, within me, when he entered the room. So Captain Carbury was not dining in my stepmother's house that evening.Lady Helen came and whispered something to Lord Hawtrey. The result of this was that he took me in to dinner. He talked charmingly during the meal. He took no notice of the fact that I was a little distraite – that my heart was very low within me. Whether he guessed any of my thoughts or not I can never tell, but he certainly did his best to restore my flagging spirits. By and by, when he saw that the kindest thing was to leave me alone, he devoted himself to the rest of the party, and soon had my father in roars of laughter over his good stories.At last, the weary dinner came to an end. The smell of the roses was so strong that I felt almost faint. My head was aching. What could be the matter with me? I began, however, to centre my thoughts on one bright beacon star of hope. I should meet Captain Carbury at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning in the Park.Lady Helen gave the signal, and we went into the drawing-room; there she said, eagerly: "My child, you look pale. Are you tired?""No," I answered; "I am not the least tired." But then I added, rather petulantly, "I have too many flowers on my dress; the smell of the roses in these hot rooms makes me almost faint. May I not take some of them off?""By no means," she answered, and she stepped back a few paces and looked at me attentively."Really, Heather," she said, "you are, I believe, intended by Providence to look pale; that pallor in your cheeks, joined to the darkness of your big eyes, gives you a wonderfully interesting, almost spiritual, look.""If you but knew," I answered, "how very, very little I care for how I look!"I said these words defiantly. I was certain she would scold me for uttering them. She paused, however, as though she were listening, then she said: "In future, my dear child, you may look as you like, and act as you like; for the present, just please me. Reward me for my good services to you by being my good little Heather on this one evening."I was surprised at her words, and at the sort of affectionate admiration in her manner. She made me sit next to her on the sofa."You are not a bit fit to go to the theatre," she said. "I shall go with Frank Dolby; nothing will induce him to miss a play.""And father?" I remarked."I doubt if your father will care to go, Heather; he'll probably amuse himself in the smoking-room.""He and Lord Hawtrey together in the smoking-room," I answered."I did not say that." She smiled, glanced at me, and looked away. "Lie back on the sofa and rest, dear," she said.Voices were heard in the hall; she bustled out of the room; I wondered at her manner. But I was really tired now – she was right about that; my head ached; I was suffering from cruel disappointment. The day had been most exciting, the day had been brimful of hope, and now night brought disappointment. People were talking eagerly in the hall. I felt indifferent. Then there was silence. The next minute the drawing-room door was opened, and my father came in."God bless you, my Heather!" he said. "And now, child, listen to me. You must do whatever you think right. Her ladyship's away, Heather, 'hey! nonny, nonny!' – her ladyship's away, and I won't be bullied about my own little girl. You do just what you think right."He knelt down as he spoke, bent over me, put his arm round my neck, pressed his lips to mine, and then hurried out of the room. I was just intending to go up to bed; I was longing for the quiet of my own chamber; I wanted intensely to put my treasured roses into water; I wanted to creep into bed and dream about Captain Carbury. I pined for the shelter of my little room, for the darkness, the peace. I should fall asleep presently, but until then I could think and think of the man who had said good words to me that day, of the man whom I should meet to-morrow. Of course, I would not marry him – no, not for the wide world; but I might think of him, I might – I made up my mind that I would.The house was quite silent. I raised myself from the sofa, and walked as far as the fireplace; I bent down over the fire, then, raising myself, I caught my own reflection in the glass. The vision of a girl looked back at me from its mirrored depths – a girl with eyes like stars, lips slightly parted, a radiant face. Somebody came in quickly – who was it? I turned. Lord Hawtrey was at my side."I won't stay long, unless you give me leave," he said. "Lady Helen thought you would not mind seeing me, and your father is in the house – he is in the smoking-room; Lady Helen thinks you won't mind.""Sit down, won't you?" I said."Oh, no. I cannot sit while you stand.""But I am a young girl, and you are an old man," I said. "Do, please, sit down. You look very tired, too," I added, and I gave him an affectionate glance, for I really quite liked him.