quite
nice; and Aneta is a charming creature. I could never desire even one
of my own precious girls to look nicer than Aneta does. Well, here I
am. Now, then, what will Fate decide?"

Mr. Cardew sprang from the hansom, desired the man to wait, ran up
some low steps, and rang the bell at the front door of a stately
mansion.

A smiling, very bright-looking maid-servant opened it for him.

"Is Mrs. Ward, within?" questioned Cardew.

"Yes, sir."

"Good heavens!" murmured Cardew under his breath.

"Is she disengaged, and can she give me a few moments of her time?"
continued the much-disappointed gentleman.

"Certainly, sir. Will you come into the drawing-room? What name shall
I say?"

Cardew produced one of his cards.

"Have the goodness to tell your mistress that if she is particularly
engaged I can "--he hesitated--"call another time."

"I will tell her, sir; but Mrs. Ward is not particularly engaged. She
will see you, I am sure, directly."

The girl withdrew, and Cardew sank into a low chair.

He had to wait a few minutes, and during that time had abundant
leisure to look round the beautiful room in which he found himself. It
was so furnished as to resemble a fresh country room. The wall-paper
was white; the pictures were all water-colors, all original, and all
the works of well-known artists. They mostly represented country
scenes, but there were a few admirable portraits of charming girls
just in the heyday of youth and happiness. The floor was of polished
oak and had a large pale-blue drugget in the center, which could be
rolled up at any moment if an impromptu dance was desirable. The large
windows had boxes of flowers outside, which were fresh and well kept,
and had evidently been recently watered, for some sparkling drops
which looked almost like summer rain still glistened on them. The room
itself was also decked with flowers in every available corner, and all
these flowers were fresh and beautifully arranged. They were country
flowers--and of course roses, roses everywhere. There were also great
bowls of mignonette and large glass vases filled with sweet peas.

The air of the room was fresh and full of delicate perfume. Mr. Cardew
had to admit to himself that this was a room in which the most refined
young ladies in the world might sit with pleasure and profit. There
was a shelf for books running round the dado, and the books therein
were good of their kind and richly and handsomely bound. There