little
arrangement in that light," Lady St. Maurice said pleasantly. "For your
mother's sake, Margharita, I should have been only too glad to have
welcomed you here at any time as my daughter, and I hope that when we
know one another better, you will not be quite so independent. Don't be
afraid," she added, "you shall have your own way at first. Some day I
hope that you will come round to mine."

Margharita sipped her tea quietly, and made no reply; but in the
firelight her dark eyes glowed softly and brightly, and Lady St. Maurice
was quite satisfied with her silence. For a few moments neither of them
spoke. Then Lady St. Maurice leaned back in her chair, away from the
firelight, and asked a question.

"Did you know that the Count di Marioni, your uncle, was in London?"

"I knew that he had been there," Margharita answered in a low tone.

"Had been! Has he gone away?"

"I suppose so," the girl continued, looking steadily at her questioner.
"Yesterday I called to see him at a hotel in Piccadilly, and they told
me that he had left that morning for abroad. I was sorry to be too
late."

"Yes."

Lady St. Maurice asked no more. The dark eyes seemed to be trying to
pierce the dusk between them, and read her face. She turned the
conversation, and asked a few questions about the journey. Afterward
would be time enough to find out how much this girl knew.

Soon Lord St. Maurice came in from shooting, wet to the skin, and stood
by the fire, drinking his tea and talking pleasantly to Margharita and
his wife. She talked more readily to him than to Lady St. Maurice, but
in the middle of the conversation she checked herself and stood up.

"I am tired," she said abruptly. "May I go to my room?"

Lady St. Maurice took her away herself, and showed her the suite which
had been prepared for her. There was a bedroom, a daintily furnished
little sitting room, and a bath room, all looking out upon the sea. A
bright fire had been lit in both the rooms, and bowls of flowers and
many little feminine trifles helped to unite comfort to undoubted
luxury. Margharita went from one to the other without remark.

"These are far too nice," she said simply, when Lady St. Maurice turned
to go. "I have not been used to such luxury."

Lady St. Maurice left her with a sigh, and went downstairs. She had
hoped to see the cold proud face relax a little at the many signs of
thought in the preparations which had been made for her, and she was
disa