lderhurst quite anxiously at times when he
was talking to the girl. An anxious mother could scarcely have regarded
him with a greater desire to analyse his sentiments. The match would be
such a fitting one. He would make such an excellent husband--and there
were three places, and the diamonds were magnificent. Lady Maria had
described to her a certain tiara which she frequently pictured to
herself as glittering above Agatha's exquisite low brow. It would be
infinitely more becoming to her than to Miss Brooke or Mrs. Ralph,
though either of them would have worn it with spirit. She could not help
feeling that both Mrs. Ralph's brilliancy and Miss Brooke's insouciant
prettiness were not unworthy of being counted in the running, but Lady
Agatha seemed somehow so much more completely the thing wanted. She was
anxious that she should always look her best, and when she knew that
disturbing letters were fretting her, and saw that they made her look
pale and less luminous, she tried to raise her spirits.

"Suppose we take a brisk walk," she would say, "and then you might try a
little nap. You look a little tired."

"Oh," said Agatha one day, "how kind you are to me! I believe you
actually care about my complexion--about my looking well."

"Lord Walderhurst said to me the other day," was Emily's angelically
tactful answer, "that you were the only woman he had ever seen who
_always_ looked lovely."

"Did he?" exclaimed Lady Agatha, and flushed sweetly. "Once Sir Bruce
Norman actually said that to me. I told him it was the nicest thing that
could be said to a woman. It is all the nicer"--with a sigh--"because it
isn't _really_ true."

"I am sure Lord Walderhurst believed it true," Emily said. "He is not a
man who talks, you know. He is very serious and dignified." She had
herself a reverence and admiration for Lord Walderhurst bordering on
tender awe. He was indeed a well-mannered person, of whom painful things
were not said. He also conducted himself well toward his tenantry, and
was patron of several notable charities. To the unexacting and
innocently respectful mind of Emily Fox-Seton this was at once
impressive and attractive. She knew, though not intimately, many noble
personages quite unlike him. She was rather early Victorian and
touchingly respectable.

"I have been crying," confessed Lady Agatha.

"I was afraid so, Lady Agatha," said Emily.

"Things are getting hopeless in Curzon Street. I had a letter from
Milli