"I know," says Beatrice, nodding her head sagely; "it is that girl who
lives with the Daintrees."

"Beatrice, how silly you are!" cries her mother.

Tom Esterworth turns round in his chair, and looks at his niece.

"By Jove, you've hit it!" he exclaims. "What a clever pussy you are to be
sure."

And then the soul of the member's wife became filled with consternation
and disgust.

"Well, I call it downright sly of John Kynaston!" she exclaims, angrily;
"picking out a nobody like that behind all our backs, and keeping it so
quiet, too; he ought to be ashamed of himself for such an unsuitable
selection!"

Beatrice laughed. "You know, uncle Tom, mamma wanted him to marry me."

"Beatrice, you should not say such things," said her mother, colouring.

"Whew!" whistled Mr. Esterworth. "So that was the little game, Caroline,
was it? John Kynaston has better taste. He wouldn't have looked at an
ugly little girl like our pussy here, would he, Puss? Miss Nevill is one
of the finest women I ever saw in my life. She was at the meet to-day on
one of his horses; and, by Jove! she made all the other women look plain
by the side of her! Kynaston is a very lucky fellow."

"I think, mamma, there can be no doubt about sending Miss Nevill an
invitation to our ball now," said Beatrice, laughingly.

"She will have to be asked to stay in the house," said Mrs. Miller, with
something akin to a groan. "I cannot leave her out, as Lady Kynaston is
coming. Oh, dear! oh, dear! what fools men are, to be sure!"

But Beatrice was wicked enough to laugh again over her mother's
discomfiture.

CHAPTER IX.

ENGAGED.

I wonder did you ever count
The value of one human fate,
Or sum the infinite amount
Of one heart's treasures, and the weight
Of one heart's venture.

A. Procter.

It was quite true what Mr. Thomas Esterworth had said, that Vera was
engaged to Sir John Kynaston.

It had all come about so rapidly, and withal so quietly, that, when Vera
came to think of it, it rather took her breath away. She had expected it,
of course; indeed, she had even planned and tried for it; but, when it
had actually come to her, she felt herself to be bewildered by the
suddenness of it.

In the end the climax of the love-making had been prosaic enough. Sir
John had not felt himself equal to the task of a personal interview with
the lady of his affections, with the accompanying risks of a personal
rejection, which, in hi