“Oh, my dear, there is little doubt that I shall see a great deal of her,” said the mother, with a glance towards the other group, of which Constance was the central figure. She was lying back in the big wicker-work chair; with the white hands and arms, which showed out of sleeves shorter than were usual in Bordighera, very visible in the dusk, accompanying her talk by lively gestures. The young captain stood like a sentinel a little behind her. His mother’s glance was half vexation and half pleasure. She thought it was a great thing for a girl to have secured the attentions of her boy, and a very sad thing for the girl who had not secured them. Any doubt that Constance might not be grateful, had not yet entered her thoughts. Frances, though she was so much less experienced, saw the matter in another light. “You must remember,” she said, “that she has been brought up very differently. She has been used to a great deal of admiration, Markham says.” “And now you will come in for that, and she must take what she can get here.” Mrs Gaunt’s tone when she said this showed that she felt, whoever was the loser, it would not be Constance. Frances shook her head. “It will be very different with me. And dear Mrs Gaunt, if Constance should not--do as you wish----” “My dear, I will not interfere. It never does any good when a mother interferes,” Mrs Gaunt said hurriedly. Her mind was incapable of pursuing the idea which Frances so timidly had endeavoured to suggest. And what could the girl do more? Next day she went away. Her father, pale and stern, took leave of her in the bookroom with an air of offence and displeasure which went to Frances’ heart. “I will not come to the station. You will have, no doubt, everybody at the station. I don’t like greetings in the market-places,” he said. “Papa,” said Frances, “Mariuccia knows everything. I am sure she will be careful. She says she will not trouble Constance more than is necessary. And I hope----” “Oh, we shall do very well, I don’t doubt.” “I hope you will forgive me, papa, for all I may have done wrong. I hope you will not miss me; that is, I hope--oh, I hope you will miss me a little, for it breaks my heart when you look at me like that.” “We shall do very well,” said Waring, not looking at her at all, “both you and I.” “And you have nothing to say to me, papa?” “Nothing--except that I hope you will like your new life and find everything pleasant. Good-bye, my dear; it is time you were going.”