sure, when he lay
awake at night. She had sent photographs of Stornham, of Dunholm Castle,
and of Dole, and had even found an old engraving of Lady Alanby in her
youth. Her evident liking for the Dunholms had pleased him. They were
people whose dignity and admirableness were part of general knowledge.
Lord Westholt was plainly a young man of many attractions. If the two
were drawn to each other--and what more natural--all would be well.
He wondered if it would be Westholt. But his love quickened a sagacity
which needed no stimulus. He said to himself in time that, though she
liked and admired Westholt, she went no farther. That others paid court
to her he could guess without being told. He had seen the effect she had
produced when she had been at home, and also an unexpected letter to his
wife from Milly Bowen had revealed many things. Milly, having noted Mrs.
Vanderpoel's eager anxiety to hear direct news of Lady Anstruthers, was
not the person to let fall from her hand a useful thread of connection.
She had written quite at length, managing adroitly to convey all that
she had seen, and all that she had heard. She had been making a visit
within driving distance of Stornham, and had had the pleasure of meeting
both Lady Anstruthers and Miss Vanderpoel at various parties. She was so
sure that Mrs. Vanderpoel would like to hear how well Lady Anstruthers
was looking, that she ventured to write. Betty's effect upon the county
was made quite clear, as also was the interested expectation of her
appearance in town next season. Mr. Vanderpoel, perhaps, gathered more
from the letter than his wife did. In her mind, relieved happiness and
consternation were mingled.

"Do you think, Reuben, that Betty will marry that Lord Westholt?" she
rather faltered. "He seems very nice, but I would rather she married an
American. I should feel as if I had no girls at all, if they both lived
in England."

"Lady Bowen gives him a good character," her husband said, smiling. "But
if anything untoward happens, Annie, you shall have a house of your own
half way between Dunholm Castle and Stornham Court."

When he had begun to decide that Lord Westholt did not seem to be the
man Fate was veering towards, he not unnaturally cast a mental eye over
such other persons as the letters mentioned. At exactly what period his
thought first dwelt a shade anxiously on Mount Dunstan he could not have
told, but he at length became conscious that it so dwelt. He h