ut before I
commit myself by falling in love with her, I want to make sure there
was no tarnish on the late Mrs. Hunsden's wedding-ring.' Captain
Harold Hunsden is a proud man. How do you think he will like the style
of that?"

Mildred stood silent, looking distressed.

"I wish I had married Lady Louise a month ago, and gone out of the
country!" he burst out, vehemently. "I wish I had never seen this
girl. She is everything that is objectionable--a half-civilized
madcap--shrouded in mystery and poverty--danced over the world in a
baggage-wagon. I have quarreled with my mother for the first time on
her account. But I love her--I love her with all my heart--and I shall
go mad or shoot myself if I don't make her my wife!"

He flung himself impetuously, face downward, on the sofa. Mildred
stood pallid and scared in the middle of the floor. Once he lifted his
head and looked at her.

"Go away, Milly!" he said, hoarsely. "I'm a savage to frighten you so!
Leave me; I shall be better alone."

And Mildred, not knowing what else to do, went.

Next morning, hours before Lady Kingsland was out of bed, Lady
Kingsland's son was galloping over the breezy hills and golden downs.
An hour's hard run, and he made straight for Hunsden Hall.

Miss Hunsden was taking a constitutional up and down the terrace
overlooking the sea, with three big dogs. She turned round at Sir
Everard's approach and greeted him quite cordially.

"Papa is so much better this morning," she said, "that he is coming
down to breakfast. He is subject to these attacks, and they never last
long. Any exciting news overthrows him altogether."

"That letter contained exciting news, then?" Sir Everard could not help
saying.

"I presume so--I did not read it. How placid the sea looks this
morning, aglitter in the sunlight. And yet I have been in the middle
of the Atlantic when the waves ran mountains high."

"You are quite a heroine, Miss Hunsden, and a wonderful traveler for a
seventeen-year-old young lady. You see, I know your age; but at
seventeen a young lady does not mind, I believe. How long have you
been in England this time?"

He spoke with careless adroitness; Miss Hunsden answered, frankly
enough:

"Five months. You were abroad, I think, at the time."

"Yes. And now you have come for good, I hope--as if Miss Hunsden could
come for anything else."

"It all depends on papa's health," replied Harriet, quietly ignoring
the complime