ance a striking contrast to that which they had worn when he had
seen them on the night when the ruin of the company had been conveyed
in that fatal cablegram. Having succeeded at last in forcing an
entrance, and bowing over the hand of his noble hostess, which must
have sadly ached, and returned her mechanical words of welcome with a
smile as galvanic as her own, Howard sidled his way along the wall--a
waltz was in progress--and collided against the "beautiful and
bounteous" Bertie, who was mopping his brow and looking round
despairingly for his partner.

"Halloo, Howard!" he exclaimed. "Pretty old scrimmage, isn't it? Should
have thought your languid grace would have kept out of this sight. I've
given a dance to a girl, but dash my best necktie if I can find her:
might as well look for a needle in a bottle of hay--as if any fellow
would be such a fool as to put a needle in such a place. I'm jolly mad
at losing her, I can tell you, for she's the prettiest girl in the
room, and I had to fight like a coal-heaver to get a dance from her.
And now I can't find her: just my luck!"

"What is the name of the prettiest girl in the room?" asked Howard,
languidly.

"Oh, it's the new beauty, of course," replied Bertie, with a superior
little shrug at Howard's ignorance. "It's Miss. Heron of Herondale, the
great heiress."

Howard pricked up his ears, but maintained his languid and
half-indifferent manner.

"Miss Heron of Herondale," he said in his slow voice. "Don't think I've
met her."

"No? Dessay not. She doesn't go out much, and Lady Clansford thinks
it's rather a feather in her cap getting her here to-night. When you
see her you won't say I've over-praised her. She's more than pretty,
and she'd be the bright and particular star of the season if she didn't
keep in her shell so much."

"Herondale," said Howard, musingly. "That's the place near the Villa,
isn't it? I don't remember anyone of her name as having been amongst
the company there."

"No," said the omniscient Bertie. "She was living in retirement with
her father then; but Stafford must have known her--made her
acquaintance. Don't you remember that she was present when poor Miss
Falconer met with her fatal accident?"

Howard remembered very well, but he said "Ah, yes!" as if the fact had
just been recalled to him.

"Her father died and left her a hatful of money--that's ever so many
months ago--and now she's come up to London; and I tell you, Howard,
that