e that was raised to his was for a moment simply shocked and
surprised, but under his steady gaze comprehension dawned, and Ruth
turned hastily aside, saying, in a tremulous voice which vainly
struggled to be defiant--

"I shall remind you of that unkind speech when you are living in state,
and I am toiling for my daily bread. I could not have believed you
would be so unkind."

"I am not afraid, for that day will never dawn. Remember it, rather,
when you are reigning here, and a poor fellow stifling up in town
refuses the invitations because he longs to accept, and dare not,
remembering the difference between us!"

It was pretty plain speaking, and Ruth did not pretend to misunderstand
its meaning. At that moment all doubts died away. She believed herself
to be loved, and as her lover considered himself in an inferior position
to her own, she was generous enough to show him her own feelings in
return. The dark lashes rested upon her cheeks, her lips quivered like
a child's, as she said softly--

"If I did own the Court, if Uncle Bernard left me everything he
possessed, it would be worthless to me if--if I were separated from the
friends I cared for most."

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

A SHATTERED IDEAL.

By four o'clock that afternoon the vicarage grounds presented a festive
appearance, as the hundred guests strolled to and fro, arrayed in light,
summer-like garments. The tennis-lawn was occupied by a succession of
players, a ping-pong table stood in a quiet corner and attracted a
certain number of devotees, and the grass-plot in front of the study
window had been marked out for golf croquet. For those less actively
disposed there were seats in the prettiest corners, and an endless
supply of refreshments served on little tables under the trees.

Ruth was looking lovely and radiant, blissfully conscious of Victor's
presence, even if he were at the further end of the garden; of a dress
and hat which suited her to perfection, and of her own importance in the
eyes of the assembly--Miss Farrell, the squire's nearest living
relation, his image in appearance, and reputed to be his favourite.
Surely this must be the future mistress of the Court! The intoxicating
whisper followed her wherever she went, and heightened the flush in her
cheek.

"Berengaria!" cried a laughing voice; and she turned to see Lady Margot
Blount standing by her side, holding out a slim, gloved hand. While
most of the girls present were ar