gruff old doctor.

Lucy turned pale as her father answered, quickly and truthfully as he
thought, "No, sir, she was properly dressed."

Lizzie heard it, and though speaking was painful, she said, "Forgive
me, father, forgive me; I disobeyed you. I wore the dress you said I
must not wear!"

An exclamation of surprise escaped Mr. Dayton, who, glancing at Lucy,
read in her guilty face what Lizzie generously would not betray.

"Oh, Lucy, Lucy," said he, "how could you do so?"

Lucy could only reply through her tears. She was sincerely sorry that
by her means Lizzie had been brought into danger; but when the doctor
said that by careful management she might soon be better, all feelings
of regret vanished, and she again began to think of St. Leon and his
promise to call. A look at herself in the mirror showed her that she
was looking pale and jaded, and she half-hoped he would not come.
However, as the day wore on she grew nervous as she thought he
possibly might be spending his time with the hated Ada. But he was
not, and at about four o'clock there was a ring at the door. From an
upper window Lucy saw St. Leon, and when Bridget came up for her, she
asked if the parlor was well darkened.

"An' sure it's darker nor a pocket," said Bridget, "an' he couldn't
see a haporth was ye twice as sorry lookin'."

So bathing her face in cologne, in order to force a glow, Lucy
descended to the parlor, which she found to be as dark as Bridget had
said it was. St. Leon received her very kindly, for the devotion she
had the night before shown for her sister had partially
counterbalanced the spitefulness he had observed in her manner when
speaking of Ada at the party. Notwithstanding Bridget's precautions,
he saw, too, that she was pale and spiritless, but he attributed it to
her anxiety for her sister, and this raised her in his estimation.
Lucy divined his thoughts, and in her efforts to appear amiable and
agreeable, a half-hour passed quickly away. At the end of that time
she unfortunately asked, in a very sneering tone, "how long since he
had seen the sewing girl?"

"If you mean Miss Harcourt," said St. Leon coolly, "I've not seen her
since I left her last night at her mother's door."

"You must have been in danger of upsetting if you attempted to turn
round in Mrs. Harcourt's spacious yard," was Lucy's next remark.

"I did not attempt it," said St. Leon. "I carried Miss Ada in my arms
from the street to the door."

The tone