unlucky?

But for the _contretemps_ concerning that wretched sunshade, he would now
have been a hopeful, and almost a triumphant, lover. Now life was all
altered for him!

The door between the two rooms opened softly, and Beatrice, no longer
brave, and defiant, and laughing as she had been when she went in, but
white, and scared, and trembling, crept hesitatingly forth, and knelt
down by her lover's side.

"Oh, Herbert! what has happened? It was papa--I heard his voice; but I
could not hear what you talked about, only I heard that he was angry at
the last, when he went away. Oh! tell me, dearest, what has happened?"

Herbert pointed bitterly to her belongings on the table.

"What fatality made me overlook those wretched things?" he cried,
miserably; "they have ruined us!"

Beatrice uttered an exclamation of dismay.

"Papa saw them--he recognized them!"

"Not as _yours_, thank God!"

"What then?"

"He thinks me unworthy of you," answered the lover, in a low voice, and
Beatrice understood. "He has forbidden me ever to think of you now; and
he will leave you penniless if you disobey him; it is a terrible
misfortune, my darling; but still, thank God that your good name is
safe!"

"Yes, at the expense of yours, Herbert!" cried the girl, frantically; "I
see it all now, and, if I dared, I would confess to papa the truth."

"Do not think of it!"

"I dare not; but, Herbert, don't despair; I see now how wicked and how
foolish I was to come here to-day, and what a terrible risk I have run,
for if papa knew that it was I who was in the next room, he would never
forgive me; we can do nothing now but wait until brighter and happier
days; believe me, Herbert, if you will be true to me, I will be true to
you, and I will wait for you till I am old and grey."

He strained her passionately to his heart.

"I will never forget what you have done for me to-day, never!" said the
girl, as she clung to his neck.

And then she put on her gloves and veil, and took up the sunshade that
had been the cause of such a direful ending to her escapade, and went her
way. And after she was gone, Mr. Pryme, with his hands in his pockets,
began once more to whistle, as though the events of the afternoon had
never taken place.

CHAPTER XXIV.

HER SON'S SECRET.

But love is such a mystery,
I cannot find it out,
For when I think I'm best resolved,
I then am most in doubt."

Sir J. Suckling.

Lady Kynaston sat a