“I know; you are behaving beautifully,” said Mrs. Coolidge, soothingly, who lived in constant fear lest there should be an outbreak. “Lady Randal,” she went on, “thinks you are just perfect; and even the servants are all enthusiastic in your praise.” “If only the prize was secure,” muttered Isabel, moodily. “Only go on a little longer as you have begun and it will be, I am sure,” purred her mother. The day of the dinner party arrived. A half hour before the Vallingham company were to start, Lady Randal knocked at Isabel’s door. “Excuse me, dear,” she said, “but I wanted to see how you look before we start. I am particularly anxious that Lord and Lady Dunforth should be pleased with you. You know he is a relative of the family,” she concluded, with an accent of pride. “I heard something to that effect,” responded Isabel; “but how is he connected?” “His lordship and I are own cousins,” explained Lady Randal, while her face clouded for a moment, as if from some painful thought. Then suddenly changing the subject, she exclaimed: “But I need not have been anxious about your appearance, for you are just lovely. You have exquisite taste, my love, and I shall feel quite proud when you are my daughter. The blue velvet is charming, and your hair is very becomingly arranged, while that stomacher of pearls is superb. But”—and she started suddenly, while her face grew crimson—“but where did you get those coral ornaments?” and her eyes were fixed in utter astonishment, and with something of terror in them, upon the elegant coral and diamond cross, and butterfly hair ornament, which Isabel has just fastened in her hair, and clasped about her neck. Isabel colored violently at the question. Could she never wear those things without some one’s remarking them particularly, and continually reminding her that they were not her own? Lady Randal marked her confusion, and feeling it might have appeared a rude question, hastened to add: “Pardon me, but they are so like some that I once saw a long time ago, that I could not help exclaiming at the moment.” “Ah!” said Isabel, regaining her self-possession, and striving to speak indifferently; “I did not suppose there was another set like them in the world—they were made to order,” and the lie slipped off her tongue without a quaver. “It is a singular coincidence, surely,” murmured Lady Randal, absently. “Did you ever know——” she began again, then suddenly checking herself, she added: “But, of course, you did not, for she must be over sixty if she is living now. It is strange, though, I could have sworn they are the same.” “What were you saying?” asked Isabel, who had not distinctly understood what she said last. “Never mind, dear; but a lady whom I used to know had some ornaments very like these. Have you nothing else which will do to go with this costume?” She seemed to dislike the idea of her wearing them.