color rising, ill-humor being contagious.

"Now, Adelaide, you are getting cross," he said.

"No, I am not in the least cross," she answered with her sweetest
smile. "I have a clear conscience--no self-reproaches to make me
vexed. It is only those who do wrong that lose their tempers. I know
nothing better for good-humor than a good conscience."

"What a pretty little sermon! almost as good as one of the Reverend
Alexander's, whose sport, by the way, I shall go and spoil."

"I never knew you cruel before," said Adelaide quietly. "Why should
you destroy the poor fellow's happiness, as well as Leam's chances,
for a mere passing whim? You surely are not going to repeat with the
daughter the father's original mistake with the mother?"

She spoke with the utmost contempt that she could manifest. At all
events, if Edgar married Leam Dundas, she would have her soul clear.
He should never be able to say that he had gone over the edge of the
precipice unwarned. She at least would be faithful, and would show him
how unworthy his choice was.

"Well, I don't know," he drawled. "Do you think she would have me if I
asked her?"

"Edgar!" cried Adelaide reproachfully. "You are untrue to yourself
when you speak in that manner to me--I, who am your best friend. You
have no one who cares so truly, so unselfishly, for your happiness and
honor as I do."

She began with reproach, but she ended with tenderness; and Edgar,
who was wax in the hands of a pretty woman, was touched. "Good, dear
Adelaide!" he said with fervor and quite naturally, "you are one of
the best girls in the world. But I _must_ go and speak to Miss Dundas,
I have neglected her so abominably all the evening."

On which, as if to prevent any reply, he turned away, and the next
moment was standing by Leam sitting in the window-seat half concealed
by the curtain, Alick paying awkward homage as his manner was.

Leam gave the faintest little start, that was more a shiver than a
start, as he came up. She turned her tragic eyes to him with dumb
reproach; but if she was sorrowful she was not craven, and though she
meant him to see that she disapproved of his neglect--which had indeed
been too evident to be ignored--she did not want him to think that she
was unhappy because of it.

"Are you not dancing, Miss Dundas?" asked Edgar as gravely as if he
was putting a _bona fide_ question.

"No," said Leam--thinking to herself, "Even he can ask silly
questions."

"Why no