"Yes, mamma," Mildred replied, in distress. "She is a very proud
girl--Harriet Hunsden."

"Proud! Good heavens!" my lady sprung to her feet, goaded by the word.
"The wretched little pauper! the uneducated, uncivilized, horrible
little wretch! What business has she with pride--with nothing under
the sun to be proud of? Refuse my son! Oh, she must be mad, or a
fool, or both! I will never forgive her as long as I live; nor him,
either, for asking her!"

With which my lady flung out of the apartment, in a towering rage, and
went up to her room and fell into hysterics and the arms of her maid on
the spot.

It was a day of distress at Kingsland Court--gloom and despair reigned.
Lady Kingsland, shut up in her own apartments, would not be
comforted--and Sir Everard, busied with his preparations, was doggedly
determined to carry out his designs. Sybilla was the only one who
enjoyed the situation.

As she stood in the front portico, early in the afternoon, humming an
opera tune, a servant wearing the Hunsden livery rode up to her and
delivered a twisted note.

"For Sir Everard," said the man, and rode away.

Miss Silver took it, looked at it with one of her curious little
smiles, thought a moment, turned, and carried it straight to my lady.
My lady examined it with angry eyes.

"From Miss Hunsden," she said, contemptuously. "She repents her hasty
decision, no doubt, and sends to tell him so. Bold, designing
creature! Find Sir Everard's valet, Miss Silver, and give it to him."

Sir Everard was in his dressing-room, and his pale face flushed deep
red as he received the note. He tore it open and literally devoured
the contents.

DEAR SIR EVERARD,--Please, please, please forgive me! Oh, I am so
sorry I laughed and made you angry! But indeed I thought you only
meant it as a joke. Two days is such a little while to be acquainted
before proposing, you know. Won't you come to see us again? Papa has
asked for you several times. Pray pardon me. You would if you knew
how penitent I am.

Yours remorsefully,
HARRIE HUNSDEN.

Hunsden Hall, Nov. 15th, 18--.

He read the piteous, childish little letter over and over again until
his face glowed. Hope planted her shining foot once more on the
baronet's heart.

"I will go at once," he said, hiding the little note very near his
heart. "Common courtesy requires me to say farewell before I start for
Constantinople. And the captain likes me, an