th found, on his arrival in the drawing-room, that the house was full
of company, a sort of house-party assembled for the hunting.
Suddenly there was a stir, followed by a hush in the conversation, and
monocles and lorgnons went up.
"Here she comes," said a man near Keith.
"Who is she?" asked a thin woman with ugly hands, dropping her monocle
with the air of a man.
"La belle Americaine," replied the man beside her, "a friend of the
host."
"Oh! Not of the hostess?"
"Oh, I don't know. I met her last night--"
"Steepleton is ahead--wins in a walk."
"Oh, she's rich? The castle needs a new roof? Will it be in time for
next season?"
The gentleman said he knew nothing about it.
Keith turned and faced Alice Lancaster.
She was dressed in a black gown that fitted perfectly her straight,
supple figure, the soft folds clinging close enough to show the gracious
curves, and falling away behind her in a train that, as she stood with
her head uplifted, gave her an appearance almost of majesty. Her round
arms and perfect shoulders were of dazzling whiteness; her abundant
brown hair was coiled low on her snowy neck, showing the beauty of her
head; and her single ornament was one rich red rose fastened in her
bodice with a small diamond clasp. It was the little pin that Keith had
found in the Ridgely woods and returned to her so long ago; though Keith
did not recognize it. It was the only jewel about her, and was worn
simply to hold the rose, as though that were the thing she valued.
Keith's thoughts sprang to the first time he ever saw her with a red
rose near her heart--the rose he had given her, which the humming-bird
had sought as its chalice.
The other ladies were all gowned in satin and velvet of rich colors,
and were flaming in jewels, and as Mrs. Lancaster stood among them and
they fell back a little on either side to look at her, they appeared, as
it were, a setting for her.
After the others were presented, Keith stepped forward to greet her, and
her face lit up with a light that made it suddenly young.
"I am so glad to see you." She clasped his hand warmly. "It is so good
to see an old friend from our ain countree."
"I do not need to say I am glad to see you," said Keith, looking her in
the eyes. "You are my ain countree here."
At that moment the rose fell at her feet. It had slipped somehow from
the clasp that held it. A half-dozen men sprang forward to pick it up,
but Keith was ahead of them
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