nd obscure youth; Rosalind should be the belle of society. Her
own marriage had been a disappointment; Rosalind should make a brilliant
alliance. She had failed to gain the prize for which she had worked;
she would live again in Rosalind's triumphs, and in them find fullest
satisfaction.

So Lady Darcy gloated over every detail of her daughter's beauty, and
thought day and night of her hair, her complexion, her figure, striving
still to satisfy her poor tired soul with promises of future success,
and never dreaming for a moment that the prize which seemed to elude her
grasp had been gained long ago by the vicar's wife, with her
old-fashioned dress and work-worn hands. But Mrs Asplin knew, and
thanked God in her heart for the sweetness and peace of her dear, shabby
home; for the husband who loved her, and the children whom they were
training to be good servants for Him in the world Yes, and for that
other child too, who had been taken away at the very dawn of his
manhood, and who, they believed, was doing still better work in the
unseen world.

Until Lady Darcy discovered that the only true happiness rose from
something deeper than worldly success, there was nothing in store for
her but fresh disappointments and heart-hunger; while as for Rosalind,
the unfortunate child of such a mother--Mrs Asplin looked at the girl
as she sat leaning back in her chair, craning her throat, and showing
off all her little airs and graces for the benefit of the two admiring
schoolboys, gratified vanity and self-love showing on every line of her
face.

"It seems almost cruel to say so," she sighed to herself, "but it would
be the best thing that could happen to the child if she were to lose
some of her beauty before she grew up. Such a face as that is a
terrible temptation to vanity." But Mrs Asplin did not guess how soon
these unspoken words would come back to her memory, or what bitter cause
she would have to regret their fulfilment.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

A PINK LUNCHEON.

For the next week conversation was more strictly centred on Rosalind
than ever, and the gloomy expression deepened on Peggy's face. She was,
in truth, working too hard for her strength, for, as each day passed,
the necessity of hurrying on with the calendar became more apparent; and
as Robert was no longer master of his own time, she was obliged to come
to his aid in writing out the selected quotations.

At every spare moment of the day she was locked in