something of pleased tenderness towards such
frankly shown pleasure.

"The owner of Redcombe is a friend of
yours, then, Mr. Stewart! And you've
been telling him about me. How very, very
kind you are to me! I don't know what I
won't do for you! I've suspected something
of this, do you know, Mr. Stewart? He
must be a very dear friend, for I've learnt
that our horses come from his stables,
and——"

"You're quite wrong, Myrrha, as to his
being a very dear friend. On the contrary,
he's my worst enemy."

Myrrha looked him in the face long and
scrutinisingly.

"I know what you mean!" she then cried
delightedly. " A man is said to be his own
worst enemy. You are the owner of
Redcombe! Oh, Mr. Stewart, if I loved (I
mean liked) you before, shan't I love you
ten times over now!" All this said with
sparkling eyes, and eager lips, that looked
quite ready to kiss him, if only he would
bend towards them. "And you are going
to give this fête for me? You are kind——"

"I give it to amuse your Aunt Daisy's
visitor!"

"That is meant for a snub; but I won't
take it as such. I know everything will
be delightful! I know I shall enjoy myself
as I've never done in my life before."

And when the day came it proved to be
one of Myrrha's golden days—till towards
its close, when it clouded over. All through
the day Mr. Stewart so distinguished her
that it must have been evident to all eyes
that she was the queen of the fête. She
more than once heard herself pointed out
as the young lady Mr. Stewart was soon to
marry; for, of course, their constant riding
together had set such rumours afloat. Then,
again, everything was admirably managed;
she found golden traces of wealth everywhere,
and Redcombe manor-house far
surpassed her expectations. She was delighted
with everything, and showed her delight
with the most complete abandon. What she
had said to Mr. Stewart, "That if she had
loved him before, as the owner of Redcombe
she loved him ten times over," seemed true
in the very simplicity of truthfulness. She
tried to be composed and dignified: she
wished Mr. Stewart to feel that it was no
mere child he was distinguishing, but a
woman quite capable of well playing the
part of mistress of Redcombe manor on
some similar future occasion.

Against her will, however, the croquet-lawn
attracted her: although Mr. Stewart
did not play croquet, she lost herself in
the game, as legitimate part of which she
considered light flirtation with all the
men engaged in it. She received delicious
homage, and for the first time since she
came into the neighbourhood, felt herself
appreciated. Every other girl, cast into
the shade, turned sullen, and every man
seemed ready to fall upon his knees. For
a brief while she forgot her wisdom, and
turned aside from the serious ambitions of
life. The beauty of the day, the gaiety of
the scene, the consciousness of her own
pre eminent loveliness, the almost as delicious
consciousness of the exquisite perfection of
her dress, intoxicated the nineteen-years'
old creature. By-and-bye, after an hour or
so, and when this sort of wholesale flirtation
was growing fast and furious, Myrrha
suddenly came to her more sober self, seeing
Mr. Stewart, sitting by Daisy, watching her
amusedly.

"This is all very pleasant, but it won't
pay now. it can come after," was the
substance of Myrrha's reflections. As soon
as she could, and not too ceremoniously,
using her spoilt-beauty air, she disengaged
herself from the players, and joined her
Aunt Daisy and Mr. Stewart.

"Will you, please, take me somewhere to
have a cup of tea?" she asked Mr. Stewart.
"I'm so tired and so thirsty."

"Won't you come too?" Mr. Stewart
asked Daisy, as he rose, and offered Myrrha
his arm; but Daisy, who was talking to an
old lady who had just joined her, did not
hear the question.

"I'm sorry you're tired already, fair
frivolity!" Mr. Stewart said. "The day is
not half over."

"I only mean tired of croquet. It's a
stupid game; but, somehow, one gets
excited over it."

"So it seems."

"Why did you call me 'fair frivolity'?
You shall not call me such an ugly name!"

"' Ugly!' I defy any one to call you
anything ugly. We were saying just now
—your Aunt Daisy and I—that we had
never seen a more lovely or a more
happy-looking creature."

"Well, Mr. Stewart, I am happy to-day.
I do enjoy myself. It is all so beautiful,
and the thought that you planned it all for
me, is certainly not the least cause of my
happiness."

"For your Aunt Daisy's guest,"
corrected Mr. Stewart.

Myrrha made a grimace.

"You won't be so cruel as to try to spoil