Clarice Severn bore the reputation of being very truthful. It would be right to say that she had never deliberately soiled her lips with a willful lie. Little social deceits pass by another name; but there was no doubt that she acted falsehoods. She did all in her power to lead Sir Ronald to believe that Kenelm Eyrle and Lady Hermione were attached to each other. She remembered of old Sir Ronald’s keen, passionate sense of honor, how scrupulously he always avoided any interference with what he believed belonged to another. She knew that if he thought Kenelm loved Lady Hermione he would avoid her. It was but a feeble chance, yet it was her only one, for she could not disguise from herself that Sir Ronald began to show every sign of deepest interest in Lord Lorriston’s daughter. Like a mountain torrent her love grew in its force and vehemence; that which opposed it only added to its strength. It was resistless, hurrying her along, with its impulsive, irresistible current; yet do not let her character be misunderstood. She was not capable of anything that the world calls unladylike or wrong; she was not capable of anything unwomanly or forward; that which she wished to win must be won by most gentle means. There was a picnic in the Lorriston Woods, a species of summer entertainment in which Lady Lorriston took great delight. Near to the keeper’s cottage there was a large, open space of smooth, green grass. Lady Hermione had named it the Fairy Ring, and it never lost the appellation. All the young people in the neighborhood were there. Sir Ronald thought he had never seen Lady Hermione look so lovely. She never dressed in accordance with the dictates of fashion. “She always looked like a picture.” Higher praise could not be given to any woman. On this, the day of the picnic, she wore a dress of white, shining material, on which the sunbeams gleamed like gold, made full, so that it fell in flowing folds, and gathered round the white neck. For all ornament she wore a band of black velvet round her white throat, to which was fastened a diamond cross. Her golden hair, in all its waving, luxuriant abundance, lay in beautiful waves, and the graceful head was crowned with a coquettish little hat with a white plume. A perfect contrast to Clarice, though both were fair. Miss Severn liked magnificence, and her favorite color was blue. On this day she wore a dress of rich blue velvet and a white lace mantle. They generally divided the honors fairly between them. Miss Severn was more easily understood than Lady Hermione. It was not every one who knew the tenderness, the heroism, the poetry hidden beneath the gay, graceful manner. Sir Ronald did. Lady Hermione could have led a forlorn hope. She would prove to be a heroine, if ever occasion required it, easily as she now dances and sings. Many women have their virtues on the surface; hers were half hidden by lighter charms.