lt a foolish
pleasure--mingled with bitterest regrets--in being in the same room
with the girl he loved.

She was hidden from him in her shadowy corner; shrouded on one side by
the velvet drapery of the fireplace, on the other by her mother's
chair. He could only catch a glimpse of her auburn plaits now and then
as her head bent over her open book. He never heard her voice, or met
her eyes. And yet it was sweet to him to sit in the same room with her.

"Come, Mallow, you can sing us something, at any rate," said the
Captain, suppressing a yawn. "I know you can play your own
accompaniment, when you please. You can't be too idle to give us one of
Moore's melodies."

"I'll sing, if you like, Mrs. Winstanley," assented Lord Mallow, "but
I'm afraid you must be tired of my songs. My _repertoire_ is rather
limited."

"Your songs are charming," said Mrs. Winstanley.

The Irishman seated himself at the distant piano, struck a chord or
two, and began the old melody, with its familiar refrain:

Oh, there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream.

Before his song was finished Violet had kissed her mother and glided
silently from the room, Lord Mallow saw her go, and there was a sudden
break in his voice as the door closed upon her, a break that sounded
almost like a suppressed sob.

When Vixen came down to breakfast next morning she found the table laid
only for three.

"What has become of Lord Mallow," she asked Forbes, when he brought in
the urn.

"He left by an early train, ma'am. Captain Winstanley drove him to
Lyndhurst."

The old servants of the Abbey House had not yet brought themselves to
speak of their new lord as "master." He was always "Captain Winstanley."

The Captain came in while Violet knelt by the fire playing with Argus,
whom even the new rule had not banished wholly from the family
sitting-rooms.

The servants filed in for morning prayers, which Captain Winstanley
delivered in a cold hard voice. His manual of family worship was of
concise and businesslike form, and the whole ceremony lasted about
seven minutes. Then the household dispersed quickly, and Forbes brought
in his tray of covered dishes.

"You can pour out the tea, Violet. Your mother is feeling a little
tired, and will breakfast in her room."

"Then I think, if you'll excuse me, I'll have my breakfast with her,"
said Vixen. "She'll be glad of my company, I daresay."

"She has a headache and will be better alone