ady Throckmorton, and listened quietly to her wandering
comments, answering them as best she could. She had waited patiently
until Sir Dugald's barbarous eleven o'clock supper was over, and then
she had gone to her room, stirred the fire, and dropped down upon the
hearth-rug to think it over. She thought over it for a long time, her
handsome eyes brooding over the red coals, but after about half an hour
she spoke out aloud to the silence of the room.

"He loved me," she said. "He loved me--me. Poor Priscilla! Ah, poor
Priscilla! How sorry I am for you."

She was far more sorry for Priscilla than she was for herself, though it
was Priscilla who had won the lover, and herself who had lost him
forever. She cared for him so much more deeply than she realized as yet,
that she would rather lose him, knowing he loved her, than win him
feeling uncertain. The glow in her eyes died away in tears, but she was
too young to realize despair or anything like it. The truth was that the
curious enchantment of the day had not been altogether sad, and at
seventeen one does not comprehend that fate can be wholly bitter, or
that some turn in fortune is not in store for the future, however
hopeless the present may seem.

In this mood the entry was made in the little journal, and having made
it, Theodora North cried a little, hoped a little, and wondered
guilelessly how matters could end with perfect justice to Priscilla
Gower.

The household seemed rather quiet after the change. Mr. Denis Oglethorpe
was a man to be missed under any circumstances--and Theo was not the
only one who missed him. Lady Throckmorton missed him also, but she had
the solace of her novels and her chocolate, which Theo had not. Novels
had been delightful at Downport, when they were read in hourly fear of
the tasks that always interfered to prevent any indulgence; but in those
days, for some reason, they were not as satisfactory as they appeared
once, and so being thrown on her own resources, she succumbed to the
very natural girlish weakness of feeling a sort of fascination for
Broome street. It was hard to resist Broome street, knowing that there
must be news to be heard there, and so she gradually fell into the habit
of paying visits, more to Miss Elizabeth Gower than to her niece. The
elder Miss Gower was always communicative, and always ready to talk
about her favorites, and to Theo, in her half-puzzled, half-sad frame of
mind, this was a curious consolation. T