gued and fascinating American widow, of whom he had heard so
much, a quiet, self-possessed and gracious young lady, of singularly
winning manners and clear and resolutely honest eyes. Had Lavender
been quite accurate, or even conscientious, in his garrulous talk
about Mrs. Lorraine?

"If you will excuse me," said Ingram, with a smile that had less of
embarrassment about it than he could have expected, "I would rather
speak to you for a few minutes first. The fact is, I have come on a
self-imposed errand; and that must be my apology for--for thrusting
myself--"

"I am sure no apology is needed," said the girl. "We have always been
expecting to see you. Will you sit down?"

He put his hat and his cane on the table, and as he did so he recorded
a mental resolution not to be led away by the apparent innocence and
sweetness of this woman. What a fool he had been, to expect her to
appear in the guise of some forward and giggling coquette, as if
Frank Lavender, with all his faults, could have suffered anything like
coarseness of manners! But was this woman any the less dangerous that
she was refined and courteous, and had the speech and bearing of a
gentlewoman?

"Mrs. Lorraine," he said, lowering his eyebrows somewhat, "I may as
well be frank with you. I have come upon an unpleasant errand--an
affair, indeed, which ought to be no business of mine; but sometimes,
when you care a little for some one, you don't mind running the
risk of being treated as an intermeddler. You know that I know Mrs.
Lavender. She is an old friend of mine. She was almost a child when I
knew her first, and I still have a sort of notion that she is a child,
and that I should look after her, and so--and so--"

She sat quite still. There was no surprise, no alarm, no anger when
Sheila's name was mentioned. She was merely attentive, but now, seeing
that he hesitated, she said, "I do not know what you have to say, but
if it is serious may not I ask mamma to join us?"

"If you please, no. I would rather speak with you alone, as this
matter concerns yourself only. Well, the fact is, I have seen for some
time back that Mrs. Lavender is very unhappy. She is left alone; she
knows no one in London; perhaps she does not care to join much in
those social amusements that her husband enjoys. I say this poor girl
is an old friend of mine: I cannot help trying to do something to make
her less wretched; and so I have ventured to come to you to see if you
could n