ng when Lettice's pallor and
subdued voice had been more marked than usual.

"I can't stand seeing the child going about like this. She looks the
ghost of what she was five or six months back, and seems to have no
spirit left. I shall have to speak to her. It is most painful and
awkward on the very eve of the marriage, but if she is not happy--"

"Perhaps it is only that she is tired, and feels the prospect of leaving
home," said Hilary; and at that very moment the door was burst open and
in rushed Lettice herself, cheeks flushed, hair loose, eyes dancing with
merriment. She and Raymond had just played a trick upon unsuspecting
Miss Briggs with magnificent success. She was breathless with delight,
could hardly speak for bursts of laughter, and danced up and down the
room, looking so gay and blithe and like the Lettice of old, that her
father wont off to his study with a heartfelt sigh of relief. Hilary
was right. The child was happy enough. If she were a little quieter
than usual it was only natural and fitting under the circumstances. He
dismissed the subject from his mind, and settled contentedly to work.

One thing was certain: Arthur Newcome was a most attentive lover.
Lettice contented herself with scribbling two or three short notes a
week, but every afternoon the postman brought a bulky envelope addressed
to her in the small neat handwriting which was getting familiar to every
member of the household. Norah had an insatiable passion for receiving
letters, and was inclined to envy her sister this part of her
engagement.

"It must be so lovely to get long epistles everyday. Lettice, I don't
want to see them, of course, but what sort of letters does he write?
What does he talk about? Is it all affection, or does he tell you
interesting pieces of news?"

Lettice gave the sheets a flick with her white fingers.

"You can read it if you like. There is nothing private. I must say he
does not write exciting letters. He has been in Canterbury, and this
one is a sort of guide-book about the crypt. As if I wanted to hear
about crypts! I must say I did not think when I was engaged that I
should have letters all about tombs and stupid old monuments! Arthur is
so serious. I suppose he thinks he will `improve my mind,' but if I am
to be improved I would rather read a book at once and not be lectured in
my love letters."

She had never spoken so openly before, and Norah dared not let the
opportunity pas