knee--" He laughed again, as if he were a
little ashamed of the touch of sentiment. "Seriously, Staff, is there
any reason for waiting? I know that the engagement is a short one; but,
well why should you and Maude not be happy? I can make arrangements,"
he went on, eagerly. "There is Brae Wood. I'll make that over to you--"

Brae Wood again! Stafford's face grew set and impassive.

--"Or there is that place I bought in Warwickshire. But, there, perhaps
you and Maude would like to find a place for yourselves. Very natural!
Well, there's no difficulty! Come, Staff! Why delay! 'Gather ye
rose-buds while ye may,' you know! Why shouldn't the marriage take
place directly the House rises and we leave London?"

Stafford turned away so that his father might not see the sudden pallor
of his face.

"I'll--I'll speak to Maude, sir," he said, trying to make his tone
cheerful, if not enthusiastic.

Sir Stephen laid his hand upon Stafford's broad shoulder.

"Thank you, my boy!" he said. "You are always good to me! Always! God
bless you, Staff!"

His voice was husky, there was a moisture in his eyes which almost made
Stafford's grow dim; then, with a swift return to his usual alert and
sanguine manner, Sir Stephen withdrew his hands and swung round.

"I must be off: Maude likes me to be in the room when the people come:
and, by George! Staff, I find myself doing what she likes all the
time!"

His laugh rang out as he hurried with his brisk step from the room.

He was there at his post, when the guests began to arrive; and not far
from him stood Maude in the splendour of her beauty; not tremulous now,
as Howard had seen her, but statuesque and calm, and gracious with a
stately graciousness which was well suited to the coronet which all
knew would some day glitter on the bronze-gold hair.

Every now and then as the crowd increased her eyes would wander in
search of Stafford, and she noticed that though he took his part, did
his duty, the listless, half-wearied expression was still on his face,
and a pang shot through her. Was it possible that he was still thinking
of that girl at Bryndermere--She thrust the thought, the sickening
dread, from her and forced the conventional smile to her face.

She danced the first dance with a popular duke who stood high in the
government, and a word or two he let drop: "Sir Stephen: a man worthy
of the highest honors," made her heart beat with anticipatory triumph.

The second waltz came,