s to propitiate
them, and I was sorry.

"What would you like me to wear, Gran?" I asked.

"Your white silk with the Limerick lace."

"Why, I shall be like a bride," I said aghast, for the white silk was
one of my godmother's gifts to me, and the finest gown I possessed.
When she had given it to me she had said that I should dance in it at a
Castle ball.

"Never mind," my grandmother said. "Your grandfather wishes it, child.
And you are to wear the pearls. I am going to send Bridget Connor to
dress your hair. Nora can do the rest." She turned to smile kindly at
Nora. "See you look your best, child. It is your grandfather's will."

Bridget Connor piled my hair in soft, cloudy masses on the top of my
head. In and out through the coils she wound a string of my
grandmother's pearls. Then she went away, and Nora took her place and
helped to dress me.

The white silk had lain by for many a year and was somewhat yellowed,
but the richer for that. Louise in adapting it had altered its character
but little. It was short in the waist and somewhat narrowly cut,
straight and demure all round till it ended in a little train at the
back. It was almost swathed in the most beautiful old Limerick lace,
through which the rich ivory tints of the silk showed. My grandmother's
pearls went three times round my neck before they fell loosely on my
bodice.

When I looked at my reflection in the long mirror I confess my
splendour rather dazzled me. If only it had been for Anthony Cardew's
eyes! But I hated that I should appear so fine to do honour to the
Dawsons, and I dreaded more than ever meeting Richard Dawson's insolent
gaze.

I wondered how he would take it when he saw me and recognized me for the
peasant girl he had insulted. Would he be abashed, confused? I thought
he must be; and the one pleasant thing in what was going to befall me
was that I should see his discomfiture.

"Miss Bawn, you look as if you'd just come out of heaven," Nora said
fervently, as she watched me drawing on my lace mittens.

"I don't feel like it, Nora," I replied, "nor as if I were going there
either."

At the last moment something of my grandmother's could not be found, so
that we were delayed and arrived at Damerstown on the stroke of eight.

My neighbour at the dinner-table told me afterwards that Mr. Dawson had
fidgeted over our late arrival. I thought I could see it in the look of
relief with which he came to meet us, and the evident flurry of