I do not for a little ill Against the G.o.ds exclaim.

"'One boon of fortune I implore, With one pet.i.tion kneel: _At least caress me not before Thou break me on thy wheel_!'"

Her lip quivered and her long lashes concealed her eyes.

"They are fine lines," she said.

"They fit my friend Lord Highcliffe's case to a T. He was for a time the spoiled darling of fortune; she caressed him as she caresses few men--and now she is breaking him on her wheel; and the caresses, of course, make the breaking all the harder to bear. He writes most interesting letters--I don't know whether you care about farming and cattle-raising and that kind of thing; for my own part I am sublimely ignorant of such matters. I can lay my hand upon my heart and say I know a cow from a horse, but nothing shall induce me to go further. If you are interested, I would venture to offer to show you one of his letters; there is nothing in them of a private character."

Her heart beat still more quickly; he saw the eager light flash in her eyes; and his hand went to his breast coat-pocket; then he said, blandly:

"I will bring one next time we meet. Are you going--where are you going to-morrow, Miss Heron? I, too, shall be going there probably?"

She put her hand to her lips with a little nervous gesture: she was disappointed, she thought he was going to show her a letter, then and there.

"I am going to Lady Fitzharford's to-morrow afternoon to try over some music with her," she said, hesitatingly.

"Ah, yes; Lady Fitzharford is a good friend of mine," he said. "Shall you be there at, say, four?"

"Yes," said Ida in a low voice. "Did you say that Mr. Orme--Lord Highcliffe is well?"

"Oh, yes; he is all right now," replied Howard; "he has been ill--a fever of some kind or other, I believe--but he has recovered; he is a monster of strength, as you may have heard. But I am afraid he is very unhappy: something on what he calls his mind--he is not very intellectual, you know--"

Ida shot an indignant glance at him which made Howard chuckle inwardly.

--"But the best, the n.o.blest of good fellows, I a.s.sure you, Miss Heron.

I'd give anything to see him happy. Ah, here comes a gentleman with hurried gait and distracted countenance; he is looking for his partner; alas! it is you! We meet, then, at Lady Fitzharford's to-morrow. I will bring my friend's letter; but I do sincerely hope it won't bore you!"

He bowed his adieux and left her, and left the house; for the ball had no further interest for him. All the way home he pondered over the case. That she loved Stafford, he had not the very least doubt; her eyes, her sudden blushes and colour, her voice had betrayed her.

"He has loved her all the time; and I am a purblind a.s.s not to have seen it!" he said to himself, with cynical self-contempt, as he climbed up to his rooms.

They were modest but comfortable rooms in Picadilly--and he struck a match before he opened the door; but it was not necessary for him to have got a light, for there was one in the room already, and by it he saw a long-limbed figure which had been sitting in his easy-chair, but which rose and exclaimed:

"Howard!"

Howard held his breath for a moment, then said, with exaggerated calm.

"I'm glad you found the cigars and the whiskey, Stafford. Have you been waiting long: sorry to keep you."

Howard laughed as he wrung his friend's hand.

"I thought I should surprise you, old man; but I flattered myself,"

said Stafford.

"Nothing surprises me; but I'll admit to being rather pleased at seeing you," drawled Howard, pushing him gently buck in the chair. "Have you--er--walked from Australia, or flown?"

Stafford stared.

"Oh, I see! You mean I came so quickly on my letter? I started directly after I posted it, but lost the mail at Southampton. I--I got a restless fit, and was obliged to come."

"Got it now?" drawled Howard. "Or perhaps the journey has cooled you down. Have you eaten? I can get something--"

"Yes, yes," said Stafford, rather impatiently. "Got dinner at the hotel. I came on here at once: heard you'd gone to a dance, and thought I'd wait. I want you to do something for me, Howard--I'll tell you all my news some other time--not that there's much to tell: I'm well and nourishing, as you see. I want you to go down to Bryndermere. I dare not go myself--not yet. I want you to get all the information you can about--about a lady: Miss Heron of Herondale--"

"How very strange!" said Howard innocently. "Do you know, I have just had the pleasure of meeting a Miss Heron of Herondale--"

Stafford sprang to his feet.

"Where?" he demanded hotly.

"At Lady Clansford's ball, which I have just left. May I ask why you are so interested in Miss Heron as to send me on such a mission?"

"I love her," said Stafford briefly. "I can not live without her--I've tried, and I've failed. I've loved her since--oh, I can't tell you! I want to know what she is doing. I want to know if she has forgotten me; if there is any hope for me!"

Howard looked at him compa.s.sionately, and whistled softly.

"My dear old man," he said, with an air of reluctance, "you fly rather high! The lady you speak of is the belle of the present season; she is the admired of all admirers; belted earls, to say nothing of n.o.ble dukes, are at her feet. She was the star of the ball which I have just left. If I may say so, I think you were very unwise to leave such a peerless pearl to be snapped up--"

Stafford turned away from him and stifled a groan.

"I might have know it," he said. "The belle of the season! Well, why not? There is no one more beautiful, no one more sweet. Who am I that she should remember me? What am I--"

"Rather a foolish young man, if you ask me," said Howard. "If I'd been in love with such a peerless creature, I shouldn't have left her to go tramping after cattle in Australia."

"What else could I do?" exclaimed Stafford, sternly. "Have you forgotten that I was not set free, that when--when death"--his voice dropped--"set me free, that it was no time to speak of love to another woman? I was obliged to go; but I've came back--too late, I suppose!

Don't say any more; let us talk of something else: you are looking well. Howard."

"Yes, it's no use crying over spilt milk," said Howard, with a sigh.

"Oh, I'm all right. Look here, I'll put you up to-night; we're got a spare room. Now, mix yourself another drink and light up another cigar--not bad, are they--and tell me all you've been doing."

At a quarter to four the following day Howard put in his appearance at Lady Fitzharford's house in Eaton Square.

"Oh, I'm so glad you've come," she said: everybody was pleased to see Howard; "you are just the man I want. That sweet creature, Miss Heron, is coming here directly to try over some songs with me--I'm going to sing at that Bazaar, you know--and as you know something of music--is there anything you don't know, Mr. Howard?--you can give us your opinion."

"With the greatest pleasure, my dear lady," responded Howard; "but on two conditions: one, that you don't take my opinion; the other, that you leave me alone with Miss Heron, directly she comes, for a quarter of an hour."

Lady Fitzharford stared at him.

"Are you going to propose to her?" she asked, with a smile.

"No," he replied; "I am tired of proposing."

"Well, I don't think she would accept you," said Lady Fitzharford, "she has had the most wonderful offers; she has refused Lord Edwin, the Bannerdales' son and heir, and, I believe, the Duke of Glarn--"

"I know, I know!" said Howard, more quickly than usual. "I can hear her on the stairs. Oh, vanish, my dear lady, an' you love me!"