e an astonishing change in
Miss Silver. I could not help noticing it to Mrs. Halifax.

"Yes, indeed, she looks well. John says her features are fine; but for
my part, I don't care for your statuesque faces; I like
colour--expression. See that bright little Grace Oldtower!--a
thoroughly English rose;--I like HER. Poor Miss Silver! I wish--"

What, out of compunction for a certain sharpness with which she had
spoken, Mrs. Halifax was about to wish, remained undeclared. For, just
this minute, Guy entered, and leaning his handsome head and his tender
petits soins over the "English rose," as his mother called her, led her
out to the dancing.

We sat down and looked on.

"Guy dances lazily; he is rather pale too, I fancy."

"Tired, probably. He was out far too long on the ice to-day, with Maud
and Miss Silver. What a pretty creature his partner is!" added Ursula,
thoughtfully.

"The children are growing up fast," I said.

"Ay, indeed. To think that Guy is actually twenty-one--the age when
his father was married!"

"Guy will be reminding you of that fact some day soon."

Mrs. Halifax smiled. "The sooner the better, if only he makes a worthy
choice--if only he brings me a daughter whom I can love."

And I fancied there was love--motherly love--in the eyes that followed
through the graceful mazes of her dancing, the bonny English rose.

Guy and his partner sat down beside us. His mother noticed that he had
turned very pale again, and the lad owned to be in some pain: he had
twisted his foot that morning, in helping Maud and Miss Silver across
the ice; but it was a mere trifle--not worth mentioning.

It passed over, with one or two anxious inquiries on the mother's part,
and a soft, dewy shadow over the down-dropped cheek of the little rose,
who evidently did not like to think of any harm coming to her old
play-fellow. Then Sir Herbert appeared to lead Mrs. Halifax in to
supper, Guy limped along with pretty Grace on his arm, and all the
guests, just enough to fill our longest table in John's study, came
thronging round in a buzz of mirthfulness.

Either the warm, hospitable atmosphere, or the sight of the merry
youngsters, or the general influence of social pleasantness, had for
the time being dispelled the cloud. But certainly it was dispelled.
The master of the feast looked down two long lines of happy faces--his
own as bright as theirs--down to where, at the foot of the table, the
mother and mistr