deration. No lover could have
been more sympathetic--not a word about Dick Swinton or the seven
thousand dollars. He laid himself out to please, and self-confidence made
him almost gay--if gaiety could ever be associated with a man so somber
and proud. The colonel persisted in throwing his daughter and the banker
together in a most marked fashion, and Ormsby was at much pains to ignore
the father's blundering diplomacy.

As a result of his skilled tactics, Dora had ceased to shrink away from
him--because she no longer feared that he would make love to her. She
laughed at her father's insinuations, because it was easier to laugh than
to go away and cry. She put a brave face on things--for Dick's sake. She
did not want it to be thought that he had spread around more ruin and
misery than already stood to his credit at the rectory. Pride played its
part. She supposed Ormsby understood that the idea of his being a lover
was absurd. In this, she was rudely awakened one evening after the banker
had dined at the house.

The colonel pleaded letters to write, and begged Dora to play a little
and entertain their guest.

"Ormsby loves a cigarette over the fire, Dora, and he's fond of music. I
shall be able to hear you up in the study."

Ormsby added his entreaties, and the colonel left them alone.

Dora was in a black evening-gown. It heightened the pallor of her skin,
and made her look extremely slender and tall. Ormsby, whose clothes
always fitted him like a uniform, looked his best in evening dress, with
his black hair and dark eyes. His haughty bearing and stern, handsome
features went well with the severe lines of his conventional attire. The
colonel paused at the door before going out, and looked at the two on
whom his hopes were now centred--Ormsby standing on the hearth-rug,
straight as a dart, and Dora offering him the cigarette-box with a
natural, sweet grace that was instinctive with her. He nodded in approval
as he looked. Dora was an unfailing joy to him. She pleased his eye as
she might have pleased a lover. He was proud of her, too, of her
fearlessness, her tact, her womanliness, and, above all, her air of
breeding. She certainly looked charming to-night, a fitting chatelaine
for the noblest mansion.

As the colonel remained in the doorway, still staring, Dora turned her
head with a smile.

"What are you looking at, father?"

"I was only thinking," said the colonel bluntly, "what a magnificent pair
you two