nging in her breast as she had
never thought to hear it sing again. She was glad of the excuse of the
heavy heat to discard her usual black gown and be seen in a colour that
she knew belonged to her by right of her black hair and violet eyes--a
deep primrose-yellow of soft, transparent muslin.

Saltire was late for dinner, but he came, as she had known he would,
taking his usual place next to Mrs. van Cannan and almost opposite
Christine, who, for the evening meal, was always expected to sit at the
main body of the table. She was busy at the moment hearing from Mr.
McNeil all about the process of ostrich-feather plucking which was to
begin next day, but she did not miss a word of the late comer's
apologies or the merry raillery with which they were met by his
hostess. The latter, as usual, gathered unto herself every remark
uttered at the table, and the attentions of every man, though she never
bothered much about old Andrew McNeil. But if she had the lip-service,
Christine was very well aware to whom was accorded, that night, the
service of the eyes.

Every man there had become aware of the youth and beauty which, till
that day, she had worn as if veiled, and they were paying the tribute
that men will proffer until the end of time to those two gifts of the
gods. She knew it without vanity, but also without embarrassment, for
she had tasted triumph before in a world more difficult to please than
this, surrounded by opponents worthier of her steel than Isabel van
Cannan. The little triumph only pleased her in that she could offer it
as a gift to the man she loved. For here is another eternal truth,
that all men are one in pride of possession of that which excites envy
and admiration in other men. All women know this with a gladness that
is salted by sorrow.

Saltire's eyes were the only ones she could not meet with serenity.
She felt his glance on her often, but always when she tried to lift
hers to meet it, her lids seemed weighted by little heavy pebbles.

She meant to overcome this weakness, though, and look at him even as
she had answered at noon; but, in the middle of dinner, while she yet
strove against the physical inability, her resolution was disturbed by
a strange occurrence. A wild scream of fear and horror came ringing
from the nursery. Without a thought for anything but that it was
Roddy's voice, Christine sprang from the table. Down the long passage
and into the nursery she ran, and, almost b