all that?"

The Crow was nonplussed. Had not her husband, then, told her, what every
one else knew? Upon what terms could they possibly be? And before he was
aware of it, he had blurted out, "Good Lord!"

Then, recollecting himself, he said,

"Why, yes. Tristram will say I have been frightening you. It is not so
very bad, after all--only to smile and look gracious and shake hands.
They will be all ready to think you perfect, if you do that. Even though
there are a lot of beastly radicals about, Old England still bows down
to a beautiful woman!"

Zara did not answer. She had heard about her beauty in most European
languages, since she was sixteen. It was the last thing which mattered,
she thought.

Then the Crow turned the conversation, as they walked on to the next
stand.

Did she know that Lady Ethelrida had commanded that all the ladies were
to get up impromptu fancy dresses for to-night, her birthday dinner, and
all the men would be in hunt coats? he asked. Large parties were coming
from the only two other big houses near, and they would dance afterward
in the picture gallery. "A wonderful new band that came out in London
this season is coming down," he ended with; and, then, as she replied
she had heard, he asked her what she intended to be. "It must be
something with your hair down--you must give us the treat of that."

"I have left it all to Lady Ethelrida and my sisters-in-law," she said.
"We are going to contrive things the whole afternoon, after lunch."

Tristram came up behind them then, and the Crow stopped.

"I was telling your wife she must give us the pleasure of seeing her
hair down, to-night, for the Tomfools' dinner, but I can't get a promise
from her. We will have to appeal to you to exert your lordly authority.
Can't be deprived of a treat like that!"

"I am afraid I have no influence or authority," Tristram answered
shortly, for with a sudden pang he thought of the only time he had seen
the glorious beauty of it, her hair, spread like a cloak around her, as
she had turned and ordered him out of her room at Dover. She remembered
the circumstance, too, and it hurt her equally, so that they walked
along silently, staring in front of them, and each suffering pain; when,
if they had had a grain of sense, they would have looked into each
other's eyes, read the truth, and soon been in each other's arms. But
they had not yet "dree'd their weird." And Fate, who mocks at fools,
would not yet let t