is strong, and she thinks she's in love
with him, but it's only a fancy which passes before she's been his wife
for twelve months, and she wonders what she ever saw in him then. A
year after you have been married to my brother, you will be very fond
of him, and you will be one of the most important young women in
America as well as in Europe. Oh, my dear, you will _have_ to take him.
Your Mother will never forgive you, if you don't. It was quite an
understood thing between us, when she lent you to me, that if possible
there was to be a match. Your beauty and name, and Potter's money. He's
really a very good fellow--a temper, perhaps; but I wouldn't give much
for a man without one, and like most Americans, he'll make a splendid
husband."

"For someone," I murmured.

"For you, Betty. I assure you, I daren't tell the Duchess you've
definitely refused Potter. You must be persuaded. Be engaged to him;
let him follow you to England."

"If I did that, I should find myself being married off to him before I
knew."

"Well, and if you did? It would be because you'd had the chance to
change your mind."

I shook my head. "I must go home to England," I said, "but Mr. Parker
mustn't follow me."

Mrs. Ess Kay's face hardened.

"I'm afraid if you go home after refusing Potter, you'll have a very
poor welcome, my child. The Duchess has been kind enough to take me a
little into her confidence. I don't think she would have sent you over
with me, if she hadn't known something about Potter; and your sister's
affairs aren't arranged yet. Oh, you needn't blush, and look so
indignant. The Duchess didn't mind putting her difficulties in a
letter, when I wrote her you weren't behaving quite satisfactorily, and
you may take it from me that at present things stand like this: You
must go back an engaged girl or else stay away until Lady Victoria is
married."

If Mother were different, I should have hoped Mrs. Ess Kay was
exaggerating; but as it was, I believed her, though I did my best to be
high-eyebrowed and incredulous, till she remarked that I could see the
Duchess's letter if I liked, though it might be rather embarrassing.

I was sure it would be, and preferred to take its contents on faith;
but I was so miserable that I had to keep my eyes staring wide open to
prevent the tears dropping down. I was tired, and forlorn, and
homesick--for Vic and Stan, and the dear dogs and everything except
Mother--and I felt such a horrible weakne