eady remembered. And there, among
the dashes and perpendicular lines she had jested over last night, on
which she had thought was a collateral branch of the line, stood her
father's name and that of Richard, his uncle, with the bracketed note in
red ink, "see Debbrook, Daybrook, Debbers, and Debs." Yes! this gaunt,
half-crazy, overworked peasant, content to rake the dead leaves before
the rolling chariots of the Beverdales, was her grandfather; that poorly
clad girl in the cottage, and even the menial in the scullery of this
very house that might be HERS, were her COUSINS! She burst into a laugh,
and then refolded the document and put it away.

At luncheon she was radiant and sparkling. Her drenched clothes were
an excuse for a new and ravishing toilette. She had never looked so
beautiful before, and significant glances were exchanged between some
of the guests, who believed that the expected proposal had already come.
But those who were of the carriage party knew otherwise, and of Lord
Algernon's disappointment. Lord Beverdale contented himself with
rallying his fair guest on the becomingness of "good works." But he
continued, "You're offering a dreadful example to these ladies, Miss
Desborough, and I know I shall never hereafter be able to content them
with any frivolous morning amusement at the Priory. For myself, when
I am grown gouty and hideous, I know I shall bloom again as a district
visitor."

Yet under this surface sparkle and nervous exaltation Sadie never lost
consciousness of the gravity of the situation. If her sense of humor
enabled her to see one side of its grim irony; if she experienced a
wicked satisfaction in accepting the admiration and easy confidence of
the high-born guests, knowing that her cousin had assisted in preparing
the meal they were eating, she had never lost sight of the practical
effect of the discovery she had made. And she had come to a final
resolution. She should leave the Priory at once, and abandon all idea of
a matrimonial alliance with its heir! Inconsistent as this might seem
to her selfish, worldly nature, it was nevertheless in keeping with a
certain pride and independence that was in her blood. She did not love
Lord Algernon, neither did she love her grandfather; she was equally
willing to sacrifice either or both; she knew that neither Lord Algernon
nor his father would make her connections an objection, however they
might wish to keep the fact a secret, or otherwise disp