The tables were drawn, it was idlesse all; Knight and page and household squire Loitered through the lofty hall, Or crowded around the ample fire."--SCOTT. "Look your best, and act your best." That was all the letter said, and it was signed "Your affectionate father, Henry Keane." It was the eve of a great party, to be held next day at Grantley Hall, in honour of the coming of age of the only son of General Grant Mackenzie, about a month after the incident described in last chapter. Gerty sat alone in her room, just as the shadows of this beautiful evening in spring were beginning to deepen into night. She held the letter crumpled in her hand. "Poor Jack!" she mentally observed. "His coming of age, and he not here! What a mockery! And dear Flora too. Oh, if she were but aware that hardly anything in this great house belongs to her father--all mortgaged, or nearly all. It is well, perhaps, she is kept in the dark. Her proud heart would be crushed in the dust if she but knew even a part. But poor Jack--is it possible, I wonder? he _might_ come. Oh, what joy just to see his dear old face again once in a way! But ah, dear me! it may be better not. Besides, Jack never said he loved me. Oh, but he does. It is mean of me to compound with my feelings. No; I shall face the whole position. Father never asked me to marry Sir Digby Auld. Nay, he knows his daughter's spirit too well. For the love I bear father I would do anything, so long as no command were issued. Poor Jack! Poor father!--well, and I may add, poor Sir Digby! He is so good and gentle. Ah me! my life's bark seems drifting into unknown seas, and all is darkness and mist. What can I do but drift? Oh yes, I can hope. I am so young, and Jack is not old. We shall both forget; I am sure we shall. Moore says-- 'There's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream.' The poet is right. But then it does not last. In the unknown seas into which my bark is drifting all will be brightness and sunshine. Digby will be always kind, and father will be happy and gay. The people will love him, dear lonesome father! Away from the bustle and din and fogs of London, his life will enter a new lease. And Jack will visit us often, and together he and I will laugh over our childhood's amours. Digby is too good to be jealous. I wonder if Jack will marry; I had never thought of that. Oh dear, oh dear! my victory over self will not be such an easy one as I had imagined. I hope Jack won't marry that hateful Gordon girl, nor any of those simpering Symonses. But, after all, what does it matter to me whom Jack marries? I begin to think I am very mean after all; I hate myself. Positively I--" "Come in." "Sir Digby has called, Miss Keane, and desires to see you for a moment. He is in the tartan boudoir." "Tell him, Smith, that I am sorry I cannot leave my room--that I have a headache--that--stay, Smith, stay. Say that I shall be down in a few minutes."