. He took it up, and, with his eyes looking
straight into hers, handed it to her.

"It is your emblem; it is what I always think of you as being." The tone
was too low for any one else to hear; but her mounting color and the
light in her eyes told that she caught it.

Still looking straight into his eyes without a word, she stuck the rose
in her bodice just over her heart.

Several women turned their gaze on Keith and scanned him with sudden
interest, and one of them, addressing her companion, a broad-shouldered
man with a pleasant, florid face, said in an undertone:

"That is the man you have to look out for, Steepleton."

"A good-looking fellow. Who is he?"

"Somebody, I fancy, or our hostess wouldn't have him here."

* * * * *

The dinner that evening was a function. Mrs. Rhodes would rather have
suffered a serious misfortune than fail in any of the social refinements
of her adopted land. Rhodes had suggested that Keith be placed next to
Mrs. Lancaster, but Mrs. Rhodes had another plan in mind. She liked
Alice Lancaster, and she was trying to do by her as she would have been
done by. She wanted her to make a brilliant match. Lord Steepleton
appeared designed by Providence for this especial purpose: the
representative of an old and distinguished house, owner of a
famous--indeed, of an historic--estate, unhappily encumbered, but not
too heavily to be relieved by a providential fortune. Hunting was his
most serious occupation. At present he was engaged in the most serious
hunt of his career: he was hunting an heiress.

Mrs. Rhodes was his friend, and as his friend she had put him next to
Mrs. Lancaster.

Ordinarily, Mrs. Lancaster would have been extremely pleased to be
placed next the lion of the occasion. But this evening she would have
liked to be near another guest. He was on the other side of the board,
and appeared to be, in the main, enjoying himself, though now and then
his eyes strayed across in her direction, and presently, as he caught
her glance, he lifted his glass and smiled. Her neighbor observed the
act, and putting up his monocle, looked across the table; then glanced
at Mrs. Lancaster, and then looked again at Keith more carefully.

"Who is your friend?" he asked.

Mrs. Lancaster smiled, with a pleasant light in her eyes.

"An old friend of mine, Mr. Keith."

"Ah! Fortunate man. Scotchman?"

"No; an American."

"Oh!--You have known him a long time?"