acinth herself, and though too wise to
discuss as yet with any one, especially with a girl who was really,
notwithstanding her precocity, little more than a child, her still
immatured intentions, Jacinth was far too acute, and Lady Myrtle too
open and affectionate, for her young favourite not to be well aware how
much her own future occupied and interested the old lady. Yet Jacinth
was scarcely selfish in the common sense. She was capable, on the
contrary, of great self-sacrifice for those she loved; her happy visions
for days to come were by no means confined to, even though they might to
a great extent revolve around, Jacinth Mildmay.

As seems often to happen when a looked-for letter, or reply to a letter,
is of any peculiar importance, there was some delay in the
acknowledgment of Lady Myrtle's communication by Mrs Harper. The old
lady herself took it calmly enough. 'It should, as a business letter,
have been replied to at once, but perhaps they are not business-like
people, and are thinking it over,' was all she said.

Mrs Mildmay, on the contrary, and, so far as she understood it all,
Frances, felt uneasy and perplexed. Mrs Mildmay was sorry for the
Harpers to lay themselves open to the slightest appearance of disrespect
or unpunctuality, and at the same time she had attacks of fear that Lady
Myrtle's letter had hurt and wounded her relatives so deeply that they
had decided to ignore it. Only, in that case, they would have returned
the cheque.

'It is very absurd,' she said one evening to Frances. 'I don't generally
"worry" about things at all, and I am quite sure I have never worried
about any matter of our own as much. Except, perhaps, that time you all
had scarlet fever at Stannesley, and somehow Marmy's letter missed the
mail, and we were out of reach of telegraphing. Oh dear, I shall never
forget that week!'

'Dear mamma,' said Francie, 'I quite know how you feel. I was so fidgety
that time I sent on Camilla Harper's letter to you, though it wasn't
anything like as important.'

But the very next morning the mystery was explained, and quite simply.

After breakfast Lady Myrtle sent for Mrs Mildmay to her boudoir, where
she always interviewed her steward and transacted her business for the
day.

'I have just got this, my dear,' she said, handing a letter to her
guest, 'and I knew you would be anxious to see it. The delay, you see,
was accidental.'

Her tone of voice somewhat reassured Mrs Mildmay; it