The day of the ball had been very hot. Una, as white as her gown, and very unfit for the exertion, was leaning back in a low chair in the open drawing-room window, resting till all the others were ready to go. Kattern, fresh and blooming, stood near her, buttoning the endless buttons of her long gloves. Tory was whisking about the room, and making remarks at intervals. "I shall keep you in order, Kat," she said, "you don't flirt in good style. I shall tell mother to look after you." "You know nothing about it," said Kattern, calmly. "It's quite a family affair," pursued Tory, "even asking the children! Well, I wonder what the Leighs will think! Lucian treated Amethyst very ill. I wonder if Sylvester Riddell still thinks that Tony--" "Tory, hold your tongue," interposed Una, with all her old sharpness, as the door opened, and in the stream of lamp-light stood Amethyst, all pink puffs and pink roses. "Dear me, Amethyst," said Tory, "that's a new style. Looks like a new beginning." "I had nothing else fit," said Amethyst; but the words brought back the "new beginning" made once before, and she shrank a little, at the thought of the last ball where she had given a promise to a lover. Tory's words echoed in Una's brain. She could not dance, and she sat in a corner of the great ball-room, and watched Amethyst with anxious eyes,--her beautiful, brilliant sister, who was walking down the room with her host, and looking just a little excited and unlike herself. Spite of herself, Una's eyes wandered round the room in search of the face that made interest and excitement for her, but instead, as if in answer to her previous thoughts, they encountered Sylvester Riddell's. He gave a little start, and came eagerly up to her. "I am beginning my vacation with a taste of London gaiety," he said rather nervously, as he shook hands. "Can you give me this waltz?" "Thanks, no, it is too hot for me to dance," said Una. "But will you take me out on the balcony? It is cooler there." "It certainly is too hot for dancing," said Sylvester, as he gave her his arm, and took her out on to the covered balcony. Una sat down where the awning was lifted, so that such coolness as the London night could furnish came in over the trees of the square. Sylvester stood near her, where he could look into the lighted ball-room, secretly impatient at being kept away from it. "Mr Riddell," said Una, in her slow, self-possessed tones, "I want to speak to you. I have something on my mind. I don't wish any one to be under a mistake about my sister. Perhaps you'll think it doesn't matter now. But you did not see Amethyst in the conservatory at Loseby. You made a mistake, as I said then. You saw me. Of course there was a mystery. It doesn't matter a bit now what it was. My mother gave her a message for Major Fowler; there was trouble about money. Amethyst knew nothing of such things, and it made her ashamed, and that made her odd. You were all mistaken."