"I have thought the matter well over. I am convinced that she will make a good wife," said the young man; and from his voice and manner Lady Ashley felt that his resolution was invulnerable. "There is absolutely _no_ objection except the one concerning her relations--and that may be got over. Mother, you wish for my happiness: tell me that you will not disapprove." Lady Ashley got up from her basket chair, and laid her arms round Philip's neck. "My dear son," she said, "I will do my best. I wish for nothing but your happiness, and I should never think of trying to thwart your intentions. But you must give me a little time in which to accustom myself to this new idea." And then she wept a little, and kissed and blessed him, and they parted on the most cordial of terms. Nevertheless, neither of them was very happy. Lady Ashley was, as she had said, disappointed in the choice that he had made; and Sir Philip, in spite of his brave words, was very sore at heart. Janetta, all unconscious of the honor preparing for her, was meanwhile passing some miserable hours. She could not sleep that night--she knew not why. It was the excitement of the party, she supposed. But something beside excitement was stirring in her heart. She tried to give it a name, but she would not look the thing fairly in the face, and, therefore, she was not very successful in her nomenclature. She called it friendly interest in others, a desire for their happiness, a desire also for their good. What made the burning pain and unrest of these desires? Why should they cause her such suffering? She did not know--or, more correctly, she refused to know. She rose in the morning feeling haggard and unrefreshed. The day was a very hot one; the breeze had died away, and there was not a cloud in the deep blue sky. Julian Brand came in the dog-cart with the groom. He had not seen his father that morning, he said, and he thought that he had gone away, but he did not know. Gone away? Janetta sat down to her work with a heavy heart. It seemed to her that she must speak either to him or to Margaret. He was compromising her friend, and for Margaret's sake she must not hold her peace. Well, it was the day for Miss Adair's singing lesson. When she came that afternoon, Janetta made up her mind that she would say a needful word. But Margaret did not come. She sent a note, asking to be excused. She had a headache, and could not sing that afternoon. "She is afraid to come!" said Janetta, passionately, and for almost the first time she felt a thrill of anger against her friend.