ot possible for a girl to find herself thrown into close
companionship with two young men, and not wonder in the recesses of her
heart if perchance friendship might not eventually develop into
something warmer. Ruth and Mollie had both thought and dreamed, and to
each it had occurred that possibly some such ending of the great problem
might have occurred to Mr Farrell himself. There was no barrier of
near relationship to prevent two of the young people making a match, if
they were so disposed; and while Uncle Bernard, so far, seemed to favour
his elder niece, he had expressly stated that he would prefer a male
heir. Ruth's favour was not easily won, but as both young men appeared
agreeable, gentlemanly, and good-looking, it had been a distinctly
pleasant experience to look forward and wonder if he,--if I,--if perhaps
some day, long ahead, when we know each other well... All girls have
such dreams, and understand how their existence adds savour to a
situation. It was not a little trying, then, when Jack Melland insisted
on returning to town, and Victor Druce, in his turn, must needs betray
an undoubted interest in another girl.

"Tiresome thing!" murmured Ruth to herself; referring, needless to say,
not to Victor, but to the innocent Margot herself. "I knew I should
dislike her from the moment when Mrs Thornton mentioned her name. Why
couldn't she be happy in town, with all her grand friends, instead of
rushing down here to interfere with us the moment we arrive? She is
sure to hear the reason why we are here--everyone knows it; and if she
is mercenary she will like Victor better now that he has a chance of
inheriting the Court, and, when he knows her connection with the
neighbourhood, she will seem to him more desirable than ever. Uncle
Bernard would be pleased, and think her a suitable mistress for the
Court, and they will get everything, and we'll get nothing, and go home
as failures... Mother will be disappointed, and everything will be
duller and pokier than ever..."

So on and so on, conjuring up one gloomy vision after another, as was
her unhappy custom, until at length she saw herself stricken in years,
broken in health, lonely and unloved, with nothing in prospect but a
pauper's grave. A strange ending, indeed, to that first public
appearance from which so much had been expected!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

KISMET.

When Sunday evening arrived Jack Melland was surprised to feel a
distinct strain of r