curtains, and returned into the
drawing-room. Her daughter stood in the sunlight by the window, tall,
fragile, and exquisite, her features and outline not unlike her
mother's, but frailer, softer, more delicate. The golden light struck
one half of her high-bred, sensitive face, and glimmered upon her
thickly-coiled flaxen hair, striking a pinkish tint from her
closely-cut costume of fawn-coloured cloth with its dainty cinnamon
ruchings. One little soft frill of chiffon nestled round her throat,
from which the white, graceful neck and well-poised head shot up like a
lily amid moss. Her thin white hands were pressed together, and her
blue eyes turned beseechingly upon her mother.

"Silly girl! Silly girl!" said the matron, answering that imploring
look. She put her hands upon her daughter's sloping shoulders and drew
her towards her. "It is a very nice place for a short time. It will
be a stepping stone."

"But oh! mamma, in a week! Poor Arthur!"

"He will be happy."

"What! happy to part?"

"He need not part. You shall go with him."

"Oh! mamma!"

"Yes, I say it."

"Oh! mamma, in a week?"

"Yes indeed. A great deal may be done in a week. I shall order your
trousseau to-day."

"Oh! you dear, sweet angel! But I am so frightened! And papa? Oh!
dear, I am so frightened!"

"Your papa is a diplomatist, dear."

"Yes, ma."

"But, between ourselves, he married a diplomatist too. If he can
manage the British Empire, I think that I can manage him, Ida. How
long have you been engaged, child?"

"Ten weeks, mamma."

"Then it is quite time it came to a head. Lord Arthur cannot leave
England without you. You must go to Tangier as the Minister's wife.
Now, you will sit there on the settee, dear, and let me manage
entirely. There is Sir William's carriage! I do think that I know how
to manage Sir William. James, just ask the doctor to step in this way!"

A heavy, two-horsed carriage had drawn up at the door, and there came a
single stately thud upon the knocker. An instant afterwards the
drawing-room door flew open and the footman ushered in the famous
physician. He was a small man, clean-shaven, with the old-fashioned
black dress and white cravat with high-standing collar. He swung his
golden pince-nez in his right hand as he walked, and bent forward with
a peering, blinking expression, which was somehow suggestive of the
dark and complex cases through which he had seen.

"Ah," said he,