tly shaded room was heavy with
the perfume of many flowers. People said that Lady Meltoun was the only
woman in London who knew how to keep her rooms cool. It was hard to
believe that outside the streets and pavements were hot with the
afternoon sun.

Helen Thurwell, who had come late with her aunt, was sitting on a low
couch near one of the windows. By her side was Sir Allan Beaumerville,
and directly in front of her the Earl of Meltoun, with a teacup in his
hand, was telling her stories of his college days with her father. There
had been a great change in her during the last six months. Looking
closely into her face, it seemed as though she had felt the touch of a
deep sorrow--a sorrow which had left all its refining influences upon
her without any of the ravages of acute grief. Those few minutes in the
pine grove by the sea had left their indelible mark upon her life, and
it was only the stimulating memory of his own words to her concerning
the weakness of idle yielding to regret, and the abstract beauty of
sorrow which had been her salvation. They had come back to her in the
time of her suffering fresh and glowing with truth; she had found a
peculiar comfort in them, and they had become her religion. Thus she had
set herself to conquer grief in the highest possible manner--not by
steeping herself in false excitement, or rushing away for a change of
scene, but by a deliberate series of intellectual and artistic
abstractions, out of which she had come, still in a manner sorrowful,
but with all her higher perceptions quickened and strengthened until the
consciousness of their evolution, gradually growing within her, gave a
new power and a new sweetness to her life.

And of this victory she showed some traces in her face, which had indeed
lost none of its physical beauty, but which had now gained a new
strength and a new sweetness. She was more admired than ever, but there
were men who called her difficult--even a little fastidious, and others
who found her very hard to get on with. The great artist who had just
taken Sir Allan Beaumerville's place by her side was not one of these.

"I am so glad that you are here to-day, Miss Thurwell," he said, holding
her grey-gloved hand in his for a moment. "I have been looking for you
everywhere."

"That is very nice of you," she answered, smiling up at him.

"Ah! but I didn't mean only for my own sake. I know that you like
meeting interesting people, and to-day there is an o