nough on my path to discover my way back to
Beltravers Castle?" (When he was alone he said that sentence again to
himself, and wondered what had happened to it.)

"I will show you," she said simply.

They passed out into the sunlit orchard. In an apple tree a thrush was
singing; the gooseberries were over-ripe; beetroots were flowering
everywhere.

"You are very beautiful," he said.

"Yes," said Gwendolen.

"I must see you again. Listen! To-night my mother, Lady Beltravers, is
giving a ball. Do you dance?"

"Alas, not the tango," she said sadly.

"The Beltraverses do not tang," he announced with simple dignity. "You
valse? Good. Then will you come?"

"Thank you, my lord. Oh, I should love to!"

"That is excellent. And now I must bid you good-bye. But first, will you
not tell me your name?"

"Gwendolen French, my lord."

"Ah! One 'f' or two?"

"Three," said Gwendolen simply.

CHAPTER II

BELTRAVERS CASTLE

Beltravers Castle was a blaze of lights. At the head of the old oak
staircase (a magnificent example of the Selfridge period) the Lady
Beltravers stood receiving her guests. Magnificently gowned in one of
Sweeting's latest creations, and wearing round her neck the famous
Beltravers seed-pearls, she looked the picture of stately magnificence.
As each guest was announced by a bevy of footmen, she extended her
perfectly gloved hand and spoke a few words of kindly welcome.

"Good evening, Duchess; so good of you to look in. Ah, Earl, charmed to
meet you; you'll find some sandwiches in the billiard-room. Beltravers,
show the Earl some sandwiches. How-do-you-do, Professor? Delighted you
could come. Won't you take off your goloshes?"

All the county was there.

Lord Hobble was there wearing a magnificent stud; Erasmus Belt, the
famous author, whose novel, _Bitten: A Romance_, went into two editions;
Sir Septimus Root, the inventor of the fire-proof spat; Captain the
Honourable Alfred Nibbs, the popular breeder of blood-tortoises--the
whole world and his wife were present. And towering above them all stood
Lord Beltravers, of Beltravers Castle, Beltravers.

Lord Beltravers stood aloof in a corner of the great ball-room. Above
his head was the proud coat-of-arms of the Beltraverses--a headless
sardine on a field of tomato. As each new arrival entered Lord
Beltravers scanned his or her countenance eagerly, and then turned away
with a snarl of disappointment. Would his little country maid never
come?