"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 b.u.t.ter, 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 a.s.sure 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 XII

Lady 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 b.a.l.l.s and a.s.semblies. 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.