The man entered with a mincing step, and bowed very low, announcing the name of the firm he represented, and unlocking a handsome walnut and brass-bound box, took out the morocco cases, and unclasping them, displayed, to the surprise of Clare, three magnificent suites of diamond ornaments, all set in gold and blue enamel, reposing on the whitest of velvet. In each suite were a tiara, pendant ear-rings, and a necklace, each and all worth several thousand pounds. 'Oh, such lovely jewels!' exclaimed Violet, who came in at the moment, and with a burst of girlish delight; 'these diamonds are fit for a prince or a maharajah! Clare! Clare! are they meant for you?' 'They are submitted for inspection and choice.' 'What can this mean? There is some mistake,' replied Clare, colouring with extreme annoyance. If they came by her father's order, they came as a bribe; if from Desmond, they could not be left for a moment! 'Did Sir Carnaby give his address?' she asked. 'No, miss; he simply ordered the three sets to be sent on approval, and I brought them here. This is Sir Carnaby's card.' 'They are all too large--much too large for me,' said Clare, hastily. 'Take them away, please, and I shall ask Sir Carnaby about them when he returns.' The man bowed, returned the jewels to their cases, and was ushered out. 'Oh, papa, how kind of you!' exclaimed Violet, apostrophizing the absent. 'Are you sure, Clare, that these three lovely suites were not for us?' 'I am sure of--nothing, Violet: I don't know what to think,' replied Clare, wearily, and with an unmistakable air of annoyance. 'The Collingwood jewels are enough for us all, Violet.' CHAPTER VIII. 'THE DESIRE OF THE MOTH FOR THE STAR.' Ignorant of the little scene that had passed in the Collingwoods' drawing-room, Trevor Chute felt only something very nearly amounting to transports of rage when he thought of all that had occurred overnight at Sir Carnaby's club. The callous remarks of the frivolous old man stung him to the heart. So Clare as well as her father had blotted him out of their selfish world, and Desmond was the man who took his place! Love, doubt, indignation, and jealousy tormented him by turns, or all together at once: love for Clare--the dear old love that had never died within him, and that, seeing her again and hearing her voice, had roused in all its former strength and tenderness; doubt whether she were worthy of it, and whether he had a place yet in her heart; indignation at the underbred indifference of her father to whatever he might think or feel, and jealousy of the influence of Desmond with them both. Nor were the visions of hope and revenge absent. He pondered that if she loved him--if she still loved him--why leave it unknown? why should he trifle with himself and her? Why tamper with fate? Why not marry her in spite of her father and Desmond, too? In mere revenge he might make Clare his own, after all!