old name, the old candid admiration, tears rushed suddenly to
Clodagh's eyes.

"I'm not, darling! I'm not! But you are sweet--and the same, oh, the
_very same_!"

She laughed with a break in her voice; then, as two porters came down
the platform rolling Nance's luggage, she remembered the necessities of
the moment.

"Is this yours?"

"Yes; my American clothes. Do I look very American?"

"You look sweet! Myers," she added to the groom, who had come forward,
"this is Miss Asshlin's luggage. And will you, please, go back in the
dog-cart. I want to drive the pony home."

Myers touched his cap.

"Very good, ma'am!"

He turned, and passed out of the station.

Nance pressed her sister's hand with one of her old shy laughs, that
sounded infinitely sweet from grown-up lips.

"Clo, I can never get used to your being called 'ma'am.' Do you
remember the people at San Domenico, who would call you 'signorina,'
when poor James----?"

She stopped abruptly, colouring at her unconsidered mention of her
brother-in-law.

"Clo, tell me all about Tuffnell Place!" she substituted, with another
sympathetic pressure of her fingers. "Tell me about Lady Diana and Mr.
Tuffnell! I think I should hate to be plain Mister, if my wife had a
title! And all about Lady Frances Hope and Lord Deerehurst and Mr.
Serracauld! I'm dying to see all the people you put in your letters.
They're like characters in a book--and, of course, you are the heroine!

"Oh, I'm so happy, Clo!" she cried ecstatically--"I'm so happy! Do you
care for me? Do you want me much--very much?"

Her dark blue eyes searched Clodagh's face, as they had been wont to
search it long ago; for, beneath the pretty manner that time had taught
her, her warm, loyal nature had remained unchanged.

And as Clodagh returned her glance, her heart suddenly sank. Until the
moment of her meeting with Nance, she had been conscious of only one
desire in her regard--the desire to fully confess to her appropriation
of the thousand pounds. For, in the lull that had followed the previous
night's crisis, she had seen this confession as the sole means of
regaining self-respect. Her other follies--her gambling and her
extravagances--offered no means of redress; but for this one personal
act of weakness she could still do penance. And now, by her very faith,
by her very love, Nance had shaken the desire.

This spontaneous, unsuspicious admiration was the sweetest experience
that had come into