said a hundred
times before. Oh, I am so tired of it all! I grow more cross and
disagreeable every day,' finished Jill, who was very frank on the
subject of her shortcoming.

I would have stopped and talked to Jill, only Lesbia tapped me on the arm
rather peremptorily.

'Come into the back drawing-room,' she said, in a low voice. 'I want to
speak to you.--Jill, why do you not practise your new duet with Sara? She
will play nothing but valses all the evening, unless you prevent it'

But Jill shook her head sulkily; she felt safer in her corner. Sara was
strumming on the grand pianoforte as we passed her; her slim fingers were
running lazily over the keys in the 'Verliebt und Verloren' valse.
Clarence was lighting the candles; William was bringing in the coffee;
and Colonel Ferguson was following rather unceremoniously. People were
always dropping in at Hyde Park Gate: perhaps Sara's bright eyes
magnetised them. We had colonels and majors and captains at our will,
for there was a martial craze in the house: to-night it was grave,
handsome Colonel Ferguson.

He was rather a favourite with Uncle Brian and Aunt Philippa, perhaps
because his troubles interested them; he had buried his young wife and
child in an Indian grave, and some people said that he had come to
England to look out for a second wife.

He was a very handsome man, and still young enough to find favour in a
girl's sight, and his wealth made him a _grand parti_ in the parents'
eyes. At present he had bestowed equal attention on Sara and Lesbia,
though close observers might have noticed that he lingered longest by
Sara's side.

'How do you do, Colonel Ferguson?' said Sara, nodding to him in her
bright, unconcerned way, as she finished her valse. 'Mother is over
there talking to Fraeulein: you will find your coffee ready for you.' And
her glossy little head bent over the keys again, while the lazy music
trickled through her fingers. Though Colonel Ferguson did as he was told,
I fancied he would keep a close watch over the young performer.

The inner drawing-room had heavy velvet hangings that closed over the
archway; on cold evenings the curtains would be drawn rather closely;
there would be a bright fire, and a single lamp lighted. Very often Uncle
Brian would retire with his book or paper when Sara's valses wearied him
or the room filled with young officers. Since Ralph's death he had
certainly become rather taciturn and unsociable. Aunt Philippa, who