tering the house, passed to her sitting-room. Green awnings
shaded the windows. The fireplace was banked with ferns and lilies. Bowls
of roses stood about; while here and there pots of growing freesias
poured their delicate fragrance around.

Myra crossed to the hearthrug and stood gazing up at the picture of Lord
Ingleby. The gentle refinement of the scholarly face seemed accentuated
by the dim light. Lady Ingleby dwelt in memory upon the consistent
courtesy of the dead man's manner; his unfailing friendliness and
equability to all; courteous to men of higher rank, considerate to those
of lower; genial to rich and poor alike.

"Oh, Michael," she whispered, "have I been unfaithful? Have I forgotten
how good you were?"

But still her heart died within her. The man who had stalked across the
lawn, leaving her without a touch or look, held it in the hollow of his
hand.

A dog-cart clattered up to the portico. Men's voices sounded in the hall.
Tramping feet hurried along the corridor. Then Billy's excited young
voice cried, "May we come in?" followed by Ronnie's deeper tones, "If we
shall not be in the way?" The next moment she was grasping a hand of
each.

"You dear boys!" she said. "I have never been more glad to see you! Do
sit down; or have you come to play tennis?"

"We have come to see _you_, dear Queen," said Billy. "We are staying at
Overdene. The duchess had your letter. She told us the great news; also,
that you were returning yesterday. So we came over to--to----"

"To congratulate," said Ronald Ingram; and he said it heartily and
bravely.

"Thank you," said Myra, smiling at them, but her sweet voice was
tremulous. These first congratulations, coming just now, were almost more
than she could bear. Then, with characteristic simplicity and
straightforwardness, she told these old friends the truth.

"You dear boys! It is quite sweet of you to come over; and an hour ago,
you would have found me radiant. There cannot have been a happier woman
in the whole world than I. But, you know, I met him, and we became
engaged, while I was doing my very original rest-cure, which consisted
chiefly in being Mrs. O'Mara, to all intents and purposes, instead of
myself. This afternoon he knows for the first time that I am Lady Ingleby
of Shenstone. And, boys, the shock has been too much for him. He is such
a splendid man; but a dear delightful cowboy sort of person. He has lived
a great deal abroad, and been everything you