"I am very fond of dancing and of skating. The ice was very good on the
lake at Whitney this winter. Rupert and Gerry were home from Eton, and
Eddy had brought a young man down with him--Mr. Hubbard---who is in his
business in Liverpool, and a friend of my brother Guy's was staying in
the house too, from India. I think you have met him--Mr. Decies. We
skated till past twelve one night--a Wednesday, I think. There was a
moon, and a great many stars. The thermometer registered fifteen
degrees of frost Mr. Decies told me. But I was not cold. It was very
beautiful."

Richard shifted his position. The organ had moved farther away.
Uncheered by further copper showers, it droned again slumberously,
while the murmur sent forth by the thousand activities of the great
city waxed loud, for the moment, and hoarsely insistent.

"I do not bore you?" Lady Constance asked, in sudden anxiety.

"Oh no, no!" Richard answered. "I am glad to have you tell me about
yourself, if you will; and all that you care for."

Thus encouraged, the girl took up her little parable again, her sweet,
rather vacant, face growing almost animated as she spoke.

"We did something else I liked very much, but from what Alicia said
afterwards I am afraid I ought not to have liked it. One day it snowed,
and we all played hide-and-seek. There are a number of attics in the
roof of the bachelor's wing at Whitney, and there are long up-and-down
passages leading round to the old nurseries. Mama did not mind, but
Alicia was very displeased. She said it was a mere excuse for romping.
But that was not true. Of course we never thought of romping. We did
make a great noise," she added conscientiously, "but that was Rupert
and Gerry's fault. They would jump out after promising not to, and of
course it was impossible to help screaming. Eddy's Liverpool friend
tried to jump out too, but Maggie snubbed him. I think he deserved it.
You ought to play fair; don't you think so? After promising, you would
never jump out, would you?"

And there Lady Constance stopped, with a little gasp.

"Oh! I beg your pardon. I am so sorry. I forgot," she added
breathlessly.

Richard's face had become thin and keen.

"Forget just as often as you can, please," he answered huskily. "I
would infinitely rather have you--have everybody--forget altogether--if
possible."

"Oh! but I think that would be wrong of me," she rejoined, with gentle
dogmatism. "It is selfish to forget anything that