of stained glass, through whose mellow tints the light shone in tenderest colours; heavy draperies, of some wondrous Eastern fabric, fell on either side of the broad low door; a neutral-tinted wall supported rare plaques of Moorish faïence, and choice selections of bric-à-brac, with here and there the glimmer of brass sconces and silver repoussé ovals, relieving the somewhat sombre tone; while everywhere, in each possible or impossible spot, on every table, in every vase or bowl, a wealth of Maréchal Niel roses filled the air with their subtle pungent perfume, and caught and held the sunshine as in a trance. The one picture of the room stood upon an easel, hung with plush of ruddy hue; it was an artist proof engraving of Correggio's "Io and Jupiter." A fire of pine-logs smouldered on the andirons, and through the curtained doorway a vanishing perspective revealed a vista of drawing-room, music-parlour, and billiard-hall, all in the half tints of twilight.

Mrs. Newbold threw off her hat and ulster, and pushing back the light fluffy curls from her forehead, called out laughingly:

"Mimi, Mimi!"

A little fairy, all yellow curls and white frock, darted through the open door, and dancing up to the pretty lady threw her arms rapturously around her; her mamma bent down her own head above the little one, and kissed the eager little lips.

"See, Philip," she said, "here is your god-daughter. Has she not blossomed into a little hoyden?"

"A Hebe, rather," answered Philip, "and as like her mother as a bud is like the rose."

Esther laughed. "You certainly do pay one the very prettiest compliments, Mr. Tremain; I make you my humble acknowledgments," and she dropped him a mock curtsey. "If this is the result of stern law, why, commend me to its votaries."

And thus laughing, chatting and sipping their tea, they beguiled the time away, until the first dressing-gong broke upon them with surprise, and Philip escaped to his room before the tennis party appeared, flushed with victory, or despondent with defeat.

As Mr. Tremain moved leisurely about his apartment, his ear caught the sound of his own name; he stopped, with a half smile on his lips, and listened. The speakers, two girls, were evidently oblivious to the fact, that given open windows and unmodulated voices, what is sent out of one window, may enter at the other.

"Who is this Philip Tremain?" asked voice No. 1. "I am bored to death by Esther Newbold's praises of him. I don't know him."

"He can't be great things then, can he?" said mockingly voice No. 2. "Only you see, Rosie, this time you're out of it altogether; Philip Tremain is just too awfully utter, just the swellest thing out in men, my dear, though you don't know him Boston-way. Handsome mug, heaps of shiners, Mayflower family, and good form from way back."

Here a little whiff from a Russian cigarette fluttered in. "Ha, ha," laughed Philip, as he sniffed at it, "the girl of the period, and her least hated friend; matters grow interesting."

"How disgustingly slangy you are, Dick," broke in voice No. 1; "really your language is most offensive."

"Poor cultured child!" cried out the other, with a merry laugh, that had something honest in its tone. "How I afflict her! Oh, ye gods and little fishes, how shall I appease her? But seriously, Rosie, don't you remember some one telling us all about him, and the dreadful cropper handsome Patty Hildreth came over him? Long ago, my dear, when she was young, and we had not even seen our 'green and salad days.' He was tremendously in love with her, they say, and was blind to Patty's little peculiarities where men and flirting were concerned, until at last something worse than usual came to his ears, some scrape more daring and hare-brained, in which Patty's name figured largely, and he cut up rough about it; Patty was wilful and obstinate, and Mr. Tremain injured and harsh, and so the engagement came to everlasting smash, and Patty engaged herself, before the week was out, to old Tom Naylor, who left her a cool million, and died within the year of her dismissing him. What luck some girls have! By the way, Esther has asked her here, she says; what a lark it will be to see the meeting of the old-time pals. Good gracious! are you all dressed, Rosa? I shall be late again, as sure as eggs is eggs, and George is such a Turk about meals."

Then the speaker evidently moved away from the window, and Philip heard no more; but what he had listened to set him thinking, and brought a smile of bitterness to his lips.

"So Patty is coming, Patty is to be here," he mused, "and I must meet her after all these long years. Poor, wilful, pretty Patricia!"

A few moments later he entered the library, and found the room still in half-lights and apparently tenantless; but as he moved towards the fireplace he became aware of a tall, slight figure, severely clad in a dark, trailing gown of some heavy silken material. A fall of black lace surrounded the drooping head and fell low about the face, throwing such deep shadows upon it that Philip looked in vain for any definite characteristics. The long and slender hands lay crossed lightly upon her knees, and were guiltless of rings. Something in their attitude, however, recalled Patty to him, and, with a half-credulous smile, he quickened his steps towards the quiet, almost motionless figure; but as he reached her side, a ripple of laughter and light voices broke the spell, as the door was thrown open, and Mrs. Newbold entered, followed by her bevy of fair maidens.

"Ah, Mr. Tremain," cried Esther, "are you here before us? How shall I apologise? Now, will you take your introductions homœopathically, or in one dose? Girls, fall into line!"

Laughingly she presented him to each in turn, and with a careless, "The men you know," slipped her hand within his arm, saying: "Shall we go in to dinner?"

But Philip stayed her.

"You have forgotten one," he said, in a low voice, glancing towards the figure by the fire, that had remained motionless during all the gay argot and repartee.

"Oh," replied Mrs. Newbold, with a shrug of her pretty shoulders, "you mean Mdlle. Lamien. She is Mimi's governess. I will present you, however. Mademoiselle, permit me; Mr. Tremain—Mdlle. Lamien."

The lady thus addressed turned and bowed slightly—the barest recognition of Mr. Tremain's presence. She raised her face a little, and the light from the wax candles in the sconce above her head fell full upon it. It was a face pale in the extreme, with the dull waxen colour of death—a pallor increased and intensified by the masses of snow-white hair piled high above it, and the heavy black lace folds about it. The dark eyes set in deep shadows burned with a strange inward fire, that not even the heavy lashes could veil. Across one cheek a long cruel mark of greyish blue seemed to throb, as if in angry remembrance of the cruel blow that had caused it; the fair skin would bear its traces for life. The mouth was firm and hard, save for a nervous twitching that sometimes marred its outline. It was a countenance neither handsome nor attractive, and Mr. Tremain turned away, after the barest interchange of civilities, with a feeling of irritable disappointment. What right had such a figure, youthful and full of grace, to be surmounted by a face almost grotesque in its plainness? He had thought of Patty, when first he saw the quiet, dark figure and clasped hands; but as he turned now with Esther's hand still on his arm, the fleeting evanescent vision passed from him.

"Mimi will come to us at dessert, mademoiselle," said Esther, not unkindly. "Will you not also join us?"

"Madame is very kind, but I beg she will excuse me," was the reply, in a voice that sounded young for so old a face, and yet that held an echo of such hopelessness in its cadences, it haunted Philip's ears unceasingly, and so dulled his senses that Miss James's most brilliant high æsthetical conversation fell unheeded, while Dick Darling's most daring