, with their dear short-sighted look, her
smile, and the masses of her dark hair. The dull faces on either side
faded away; the lights, the flowers were for her--for her alone!

He roused himself with an effort. His mother was putting up her
knitting, which, indeed, she had only pretended to work at.

"We must go and dress, Oliver. Oh! I forgot to tell you--Alicia arrived
an hour ago."

"Ah!" He raised his eyebrows indifferently. "I hope she's well?"

"Brilliantly well--and as handsome as ever."

"Any love-affairs?"

"Several, apparently--but nothing suitable," said Lady Lucy, with a
smile, as she rose and gathered together her possessions.

"It's time, I think, that Alicia made up her mind. She has been out a
good while."

It gave him a curious pleasure--he could hardly tell why--to say this
slighting thing of Alicia. After all, he had no evidence that she had
done anything unfriendly or malicious at the time of the crisis.
Instinctively, he had ranged her then and since as an enemy--as a person
who had worked against him. But, in truth, he knew nothing for certain.
Perhaps, after the foolish passages between them a year ago, it was
natural that she should dislike and be critical of Diana. As to her
coming now, it was completely indifferent to him. It would be a good
thing, no doubt, for his mother to have her companionship.

As he opened the door for Lady Lucy to leave the room, he noticed her
gray and fragile look.

"I believe you have had enough of London, mother. You ought to be
getting abroad."

"I am all right," said Lady Lucy, hastily. "Like you, I hate east winds.
Oliver, I have had a charming letter from Mr. Heath."

Mr. Heath had been for some months Marsham's local correspondent on the
subject of the new Liberal hall in the county town. Lady Lucy had
recently sent a check to the Committee, which had set all their building
anxieties at rest.

Oliver looked down rather moodily upon her.

"It's pretty easy to write charming letters when people send you money.
It would have been more to the purpose, I think, if they had taken a
little trouble to raise some themselves!"

Lady Lucy flushed.

"I don't suppose Dunscombe is a place with many rich people in it," she
said, in a voice of protest, as she passed him. Her thoughts hurt her as
she mounted the stairs. Oliver had not received her gift--for, after
all, it was a gift to him--very graciously. And the same might have been
said of various othe