“You must try to like me a little, Theresa,” she said, when they were alone for a few minutes. “I felt disappointed at first, because I did not believe that Harold could really know his own mind. And then, you know, Lady Elaine Seabright is a very dear friend of mine.” “But she was unworthy of my darling!” Theresa replied, quickly. “I do not wish to hear her name again!” “No! no! my dear! It was all a misunderstanding, though, of course, it would never do to tell Sir Harold now! Lady Elaine loves him still; indeed, she is somewhere in London, and I dread a meeting between her and my cousin.” There was a wicked light in Margaret’s downcast eyes when she noted the deadly pallor of Theresa’s lovely face. “Why should you tell me these things?” she said, piteously. “Ah, Lady Elaine never loved Sir Harold as I love him! He has told me many times that I am all the world to him!” “But when his memory returns, Theresa,” Margaret said, “you must be prepared.” And every word she uttered was as painful as a knife-thrust in poor Theresa’s heart. CHAPTER XX. THE AWAKENING BEGINS. Although Margaret Nugent had strongly advocated as short a stay in London as possible, she placed every obstacle in the way of the Annesleys’ speedy departure. “Theresa is so young, so inexperienced,” Sir Harold had told her, “that I leave the engagement of her maid in your hands unreservedly.” So Miss Nugent had sent advertisements to the newspapers, and entered into correspondence with a dozen or more ladies desiring the post of maid to Lady Annesley, but there appeared to be something wrong with them all. In the meantime, Sir Harold devoted himself assiduously to his beautiful young wife. Her pale face, almost listless manner and heavy eyes were a source of constant uneasiness to him. “My darling,” he said one morning, “you must not dwell so much upon the grief that has been caused by the loss of your poor father. I cannot afford to have my little one fade before my eyes in this way.” “I shall be better when we are out of London, Harold,” Theresa said. “I have heard of the cruel things that go on daily in this great city, and I am afraid.” It was a strange speech, and he glanced at her keenly. “Afraid of what, Theresa?” he asked. “Oh, my darling, afraid of losing you!” He laughed now. The idea was so utterly absurd. “Sweetheart,” he said, “do you imagine that I shall be kidnaped? Poor, imaginative Theresa! While this seemingly interminable business of engaging a maid is in progress, you shall accompany me everywhere I go. I quite expected that we should have been in France by this time. Colonel Greyson has arranged with me to meet us in Paris.” “I wish that we could start to-night, Harold,” Theresa said. “And I echo that wish, darling. Do you know if Margaret has yet decided upon a suitable person?”