d those lovely eyes look up. She was not shy; her grace of
manner was too perfect for that, but she was evidently afraid to look at
me, and I reproached myself that I had perhaps frightened her at first.

Patiently I showed her flower after flower, perfect bud and perfect
blossom, the little white doves I had tamed, the birds of bright plumage
I had bought to amuse my sister. I showed her the little fountains that
rippled all day, the rocks and ferns. She admired everything.

"Your sister must be happy in spite of her illness," she said to me.

But I could bear those drooping eyes no longer.

"Miss Thesiger," I said, hurriedly, "do not be unkind to me. I know I am
very presumptuous, but do, pray do, give me one kind look before you
go."

Then she raised her eyes and looked at me. Alas! my tell-tale face. They
fell again, and the crimson flush mounted to her white brow. I could say
no more to her after that. She went to her mother's side, and they
talked to Clare until it was time for lunch.

I asked if they would remain and take lunch with my sister. They
consented, and when it was arranged I sent to ask Coralie if she would
join us. Her answer was that she was busily engaged and begged we would
excuse her. Again I felt sure that Lady Thesiger looked considerably
relieved.

Every moment I was falling more deeply and more helplessly in love, and
yet across all my rapturous thoughts of Agatha came doubt and wonder as
to why they did not like Coralie.

Strange; she had the beauty of a siren, the grace and wit of a queen of
society, the talents and accomplishments of a complete woman of the
world, yet no one seemed to like her. How could it be?

Lady Thesiger rose at last, declaring that she was ashamed at the length
of her visit. When they were gone I went back to Clare. She looked up
at me with a smile; there was a bright flush of animation on her face.

"How much I like them, Edgar! How kind Lady Thesiger is, and Agatha! Oh,
brother, how I wish I had a sister like her!"

I thought I would ask her to solve my doubt.

"Clare," I said, gravely, "I want you to explain something to me. You,
being a woman, can understand women. Tell me how it is no one likes
Coralie. She is beautiful and clever; why is it no one cares for her?"

My sister looked at me uneasily.

"I cannot tell. I wish you would not ask me, Edgar."

"Nay; tell me what you think?"

"Then I fancy it must be because she is not quite sincere. I do