e the opportunity of her being away from grandmother. But then
if he had been much of a lover he would have followed her to St. Bees.'

Lady Maulevrier sorely missed her favourite grandchild. In a life spent
in such profound seclusion, so remote from the busy interests of the
world, this beloved companionship had become a necessity to her. She had
concentrated her affections upon Lesbia, and the girl's absence made a
fearful blank. But her ladyship's dignity was not compromised by any
outward signs of trouble or loss.

She spent her mornings in her own room, reading and writing and musing
at her leisure; she drove or walked every fine afternoon, sometimes
alone, sometimes attended by Mary, who hated these stately drives and
walks. She dined _tete-a-tete_ with Mary, except on those rare occasions
when there were visitors--the Vicar and his wife, or some wandering star
from other worlds Mary lived in profound awe of her grandmother, but
was of far too frank a nature to be able to adapt her speech or her
manners to her ladyship's idea of feminine perfection. She was silent
and shy under those falcon eyes; but she was still the same Mary, the
girl to whom pretence or simulation of any kind was impossible.

Letters came almost every day from Kirkbank Castle, letters from Lesbia
describing the bright gay life she was living at that hospitable abode,
the excursions, the rides, the picnic luncheons after the morning's
sport, the dinner parties, the dances.

'It is the most delightful house you can imagine,' wrote Lesbia; 'and
Lady Kirkbank is an admirable hostess. I have quite forgiven her for
wearing false eyebrows; for after all, you know, one must _have_
eyebrows; they are a necessity; but why does she not have the two arches
alike? They are _never_ a pair, and I really think that French maid of
hers does it on purpose.

'By-the-bye, Lady Kirkbank is going to write to you to beseech you to
let me go to Cannes and Monte Carlo with her. Sir George insists upon
it. He says they both like young society, and will be horribly vexed if
I refuse to go with them. And Lady Kirkbank thinks my chest is just a
little weak--I almost broke down the other night in that lovely little
song of Jensen's--and that a winter in the south is just what I want.
But, of course, dear grandmother, I won't ask you to let me be away so
long if you think you will miss me.'

'If I think I shall miss her!' repeated Lady Maulevrier. 'Has the girl
no hea