there. For was he not certain to climb to the top of the
tree, as well as being the most brilliant and most sought after young
man in all England. Of love--the love that recks not of place or gain
but just gives its being to the loved one--to such emotion she was
happily a complete stranger. John Derringham attracted her greatly, and
until now had successfully evaded all her snares and had remained beyond
the thrall of her will. To have got him to come for this whole week of
Easter was a triumph and exulted her accordingly. She particularly
affected politicians, and her house in Grosvenor Square was a
meeting-place for both parties, provided the members of each were of the
most distinguished type. And there were not more than two or three
people out of all her acquaintances, besides Arabella, who smiled a
little over her brilliant culture.

By all this it can be seen that Mrs. Cricklander was a wonderful
character--tenacious, indomitable, full of nerve and deserving of the
greatest respect in consequence.

The only thing the least vulgar about her was her soul--if she had
one--and it is not the business of society to look into such things.
Scrutiny of the sort is left for creatures like the Professor, Cheiron,
who have nothing else to do--but his impressions upon this subject must
come in their proper place.

Meanwhile, John Derringham had joined the party on the terrace, and was
joyously acclaimed, and then minutely questioned as to the cause of his
lengthy absence. He had not been to church--that was certain. He had not
been out of the park, because the lodges were not in the direction from
which he had been seen advancing. Where had he been, then? All alone? He
would not give any account of himself, as was his way, and presently his
hostess drew him on ahead and down the terrace steps. She wanted to
point out to him some improvements which she contemplated. The garden
must be the most beautiful in the country--and he knew so much about
gardens, he could tell her exactly which style would suit the house
best.

John Derringham was in a bad temper. That unaccountable sense of a
discordant note with himself still stayed with him. He unconsciously,
during his walk, had dwelt upon the Professor's information as to the
view of the old ladies of The Chase, and then Halcyone's silence and
stiffness. He felt excluded from the place which he recollected he had
held in the child's regard. His memory had jumped the brief glim