"Give me the opals, papa," said Beatrice, laughing; "I have no
superstitious fears about them. Bright and beautiful jewels always
seemed to me one of the necessaries of life. I prefer diamonds, but
these opals are magnificent."

She held out her hands, and for the first time Lord Earle saw the opal
ring upon her finger. He caught the pretty white hand in his own.

"That is a beautiful ring," he said. "These opals are splendid. Who
gave it to you, Beatrice?"

The question came upon her suddenly like a deadly shock; she had
forgotten all about the ring, and wore it only from habit.

For a moment her heart seemed to stand still and her senses to desert
her. Then with a self-possession worthy of a better cause, Beatrice
looked up into her father's face with a smile.

"It was given to me at the Elms," she said, so simply that the same
thought crossed the minds of her three listeners--that it had been
given by Dora and her daughter did not like to say so.

Lord Earle looked on in proud delight while his beautiful daughters
chose the jewels they liked best. The difference in taste struck and
amused him. Beatrice chose diamonds, fiery rubies, purple amethysts;
Lillian cared for nothing but the pretty pale pearls and bright
emeralds.

"Some of those settings are very old-fashioned," said Lord Earle. "We
will have new designs from Hunt and Boskell. They must be reset before
you go to London."

The first thing Beatrice did was to take off the opal ring and lock it
away. She trembled still from the shock of her father's question. The
fatal secret vexed her. How foolish she had been to risk so much for a
few stolen hours of happiness--for praise and flattery--she could not
say for love.

* * * * *

The time so anxiously looked for came at last. Lord Earle took
possession of his town mansion, and his daughters prepared for their
debut. It was in every respect a successful one. People were in
raptures with the beautiful sisters, both so charming yet so unlike.
Beatrice, brilliant and glowing, her magnificent face haunted those who
saw it like a beautiful dream--Lillian, fair and graceful, as unlike
her sister as a lily to a rose.

They soon became the fashion. No ball or soiree, no dance or concert
was considered complete without them. Artists sketched them together as
"Lily and Rose," "Night and Morning," "Sunlight and Moonlight." Poets
indited sonnets to them; friends and ad