"And pray why not, Gertrude?" said Lady Millet austerely. "Why should not I think _that_? Do you suppose I wish to see my youngest daughter marry some penniless boy? Do, pray, for goodness' sake, throw away all that bread-and-butter, schoolgirl, sentimental nonsense. It is quite on the cards that Lord Henry Moorpark may propose for you." "Oh dear," thought Gertrude; "and I was talking to him so warmly about John Huish!" Gertrude's red lips parted, showing her white teeth, and the peachy pink faded out of her cheeks as she sat there with her face contracting, and a cloud seemed to come over her young life, in whose shadow she saw herself, and her future as joyless as that of the sister who had been married about a year earlier to a wealthy young north Yorkshire manufacturer, who was now neglecting her and making her look old before her time. "There, it must be nearly three," said Lady Millet, rising; "I'll go and put on my things. I shall not come in again, Gertrude. Give my love to Renee, and if Lord Henry Moorpark does come--but, there, I have perfect faith in your behaving like a sensible girl. By the way, Richard may run up. If he does, try and keep him to dinner. I don't half like his being at that wretched Hampton Court; it is so terribly suggestive of holiday people and those dreadful vans." With these words Lady Millet sailed out of the room, thinking to herself that a better managing mother never lived, and a quarter of an hour after she entered her carriage to go and distribute cards at the houses of her dearest friends. Volume 1, Chapter IV. THE REMAINS OF A FALL. Gertrude Millet's anxious look grew deeper as she sat with her work in her lap, thinking of John Huish and certain tender passages which had somehow passed between them; then of Lord Henry Moorpark, the pleasant, elderly nobleman whose attentions had been so pleasant and so innocently received; and as she thought of him a burning blush suffused her cheeks, and she tried to recall the words he had last spoken to her. The consequence was a fit of low spirits, which did not become high when later on Mrs Frank Morrison called, dismissed her carriage, and sat chatting for some time with her sister, Lady Millet being, she said, in the park. "You need not tell me I look well," said Gertrude, pouting slightly. "I declare you look miserable." "Oh no, dear, only a little low-spirited to-day. Have you called on Uncle Robert lately?" "Without you? No." "Then let's go."