rought for her to eat.

"How good you are, father!" Cynthia said gratefully.

She took one to please him but she did not seem inclined to eat. She was
sitting in a wooden chair by the window, looking pale and listless.
There were dark shadows under her eyes and a sad expression about her
mouth; one would scarcely have known her again for the brilliant beauty
who had carried all before her when she sang in London drawing-rooms not
three months earlier.

Her father looked at her with sympathetic attention.

"You want cockering up," he said, "and coddling and waiting on. When
once we get out of this darned old country, you shall see something
different, my girl! I've got money enough to do the thing in style when
we reach the States. You shall have all you want there, and no mistake!"

"Thank you, father," said the girl, with a listless smile.

"I've had a long walk to-day," Westwood said, after a pause, "and I've
been into what you would call danger, my girl. Ah, that rouses you up a
bit, doesn't it? I've been to Russell Square."

"To Russell Square." Cynthia's face turned crimson at once. "Oh, father,
did you see--did you hear----"

"Did I hear of Mr. Lepel? That's what I went for, my beauty! In spite of
your quarrel, I thought you'd maybe like to hear how he was getting on.
I talked to the gardener, a bit; Mr. Lepel's been ill again, you know."

"A relapse?" said Cynthia quickly.

"Yes, a relapse. They've had a hospital-nurse for him, I hear. He's not
raving now, they say, but very weak and stupid-like."

"Have none of his friends come to nurse him?" said Cynthia.

"I don't know. The gardener wouldn't hear that, maybe. He said there'd
been a death in the family--some child or other. Would that be General
Vane's little boy, do you suppose?"

"It might be."

"Then Miss Vane will be the heiress. She and Mr. Lepel----" He hesitated
for a moment, and Cynthia looked up.

"Miss Vane is going to marry Mr. Evandale father. She is not engaged to
Mr. Lepel now."

"Oh! Not engaged to Mr. Lepel now? Then what the dickens," said Westwood
very deliberately, "did you and Mr. Lepel quarrel about, I should like
to know?"

"I can't tell you, father. Nothing to do with that, however."

"I expect it was all a woman's freak. I had made up my mind for you to
marry that fellow, Cynthia. I rather liked the looks of him. I'd have
given you a thumping dowry and settled him out in America, if you'd
liked. It would have been b