only had courage then to write home and tell all that he
had heard about her! And in vivid colours there rose before his mind all
the disgrace that would attach to him when it became known that he knew
of the girl's existence and kept silence. The reason of his so doing
would be evident to many. And what, oh, what, he was asking himself,
would his loved, high-souled mother think of her son? Surely the words
of the Bible he heeded so little were true, "The way of transgressors is
hard," and his sin was finding him out.

As soon as the first greetings were over, and the party were seated at
the lunch-table in Miss Warden's pretty cottage situated on the banks of
the Thames, Lily said, "O Aunt Mary, is it true what Gertie has
heard--that Miss Drechsler and a beautiful young violinist with a
romantic story are coming to visit you? Gertie is so anxious to know all
about her, for neither she nor any of us can believe that she can excel
Dr. Heinz in violin-playing; and, indeed, you know how beautifully
Gertie herself plays, and she often does so now with Dr. Heinz himself."

"Yes, Lily dear, I am glad to say it is all true. I expect both Miss
Drechsler and her young _protege_ next week to visit me for a short
time, after which they propose to go to the Stanfords at Stanford Hall,
who take a great interest in the young violinist--in fact, I believe she
lived for three or four years with them, and was educated along with
their own daughter.--By the way, Mr. Gower, you must tell your mother
that her old friend Miss Drechsler is coming to me, and I hope she will
spend a day with me when she is here."

"I am sure she will be delighted to do so, Miss Warden," replied the
young man; but even as he spoke his cheek blanched as he thought of all
that might come of his mother meeting the young violinist.

Reginald rode back with his friends to their house, but could not be
induced to enter again, not even to hear how Gertie had got on with her
slumming. "Not to-day," he said; "I find I must go home. I don't doubt
your sister has been well employed--more usefully than we mere
pleasure-seekers have been," he added, in such a grave tone that Lily
turned her head to look at him, as she stood on the door-steps, and
inquire if he were quite well. "Quite so, thanks," he replied, in his
usual gay tone; "only sometimes one does think there is a resemblance
between the lives the butterflies live and ours. Confess it now," he
said laughingly; bu