hilip Ashley was an essentially unworldly man.

As he went upstairs to dress for dinner that evening, he was struck by
the fact that a door stood open that he had never seen opened before: a
door into a pretty, well-lighted, pink and white room, the ideal
apartment for a young girl. The evening was chilly, and rain had begun
to fall, so a bright little fire was burning in the steel grate, and
casting a cheerful glow over white sheepskin rugs and rose-colored
curtains. A maid seemed to be busying herself with some white
material--all gauze and lace it looked--and another servant was, as Sir
Philip passed, entering with a great white vase filled with red roses.

"Do they expect visitors to-night?" thought the young man, who knew
enough of the house to be aware that the room was not one in general
use. "Adair said nothing about it, but perhaps some people are coming
from town."

A budget of letters was brought to him at that moment, and in reading
and answering them he did not note the sound of carriage-wheels on the
drive, nor the bustle of an arrival in the house. Indeed, he left
himself so little time that he had to dress in extraordinary haste, and
went downstairs at last in the conviction that he was unpardonably late.

But apparently he was wrong.

For the drawing-room was tenanted by one figure only--that of a young
lady in evening dress. Neither Lady Caroline nor Mr. Adair had appeared
upon the scene; but on the hearthrug, by the small crackling
fire--which, in deference to the chilliness of an English June evening,
had been lighted--stood a tall, fair, slender girl, with pale
complexion, and soft, loosely-coiled masses of golden hair. She was
dressed in pure white, a soft loose gown of Indian silk, trimmed with
the most delicate lace: it was high to the milk-white throat, but showed
the rounded curves of the finely-moulded arm to the elbow. She wore no
ornaments, but a white rose was fastened into the lace frill of her
dress at her neck. As she turned her face towards the new comer, Sir
Philip suddenly felt himself abashed. It was not that she was so
beautiful--in those first few moments he scarcely thought her beautiful
at all--but that she produced on him an impression of serious, virginal
grace and innocence which was almost disconcerting. Her pure complexion,
her grave, serene eyes, her graceful way of moving as she advanced a
little to receive him stirred him to more than admiration--to something
not unl