she was still angry,--a little angry with
him,--because he had yielded to the temptation. But there had been
something sweet in it. She was sorry, grieved in her heart of hearts
that he should love her. She had never striven to gain his love. She
had never even thought of it. It ought not to have been so. She should
have thought of it; she should not have shown herself to be so pleased
with his society. But yet,--yet it was sweet. Then there came upon her
some memory of her old dreams, before she had been engaged to Lord
George. She knew how vain had been those dreams, because she now loved
Lord George with her whole heart; but yet she remembered them, and felt
as though they had come true with a dreamy half truth. And she brought
to mind all those flattering words with which he had spoken her
praises,--how he had told her that she was an angel, too good and pure
to be supposed capable of evil; how he had said that in his castles in
the air he would still think of her as his wife. Surely a man may build
what castles in the air he pleases, if he will only hold his tongue!
She was quite sure that she did not love him, but she was sure also
that his was the proper way of making love. And then she thought of
Guss Mildmay. Could she not in pure charity do a good turn to that poor
girl? Might she not tell Captain De Baron that it was his duty to marry
her? And if he felt it to be his duty would he not do so? It may be
doubted whether in these moments she did not think much better of
Captain De Baron than that gentleman deserved.

On the next day the Manor Cross carriage came over for her. The Dean
had offered to send her, but Lord George had explained that his mother
was anxious that the carriage should come. There would be a cart for
the luggage. As to Lady George herself there was a general feeling at
Manor Cross that in the present circumstances the family carriage
should bring her home. But it came empty. "God bless you, dearest,"
said the Dean as he put her into the vehicle.

"Good-bye, papa. I suppose you can come over and see me."

"I don't know that I can. I saw none of the ladies when I was there
yesterday."

"I don't care a bit for the ladies. Where I go, papa, you can come. Of
course George will see you, and you could ask for me." The Dean smiled,
and kissed her again, and then she was gone.

She hardly knew what grand things were in store for her. She was still
rebelling in her heart against skirts and pettic