As a creature of impulse, Anna felt a passing thrill of something like pride in Adam as Mildred Atherton spoke thus to him, and when as he passed her he involuntarily laid his hand a moment on her shoulder she did not shake it off, though her heart throbbed painfully with thoughts of her intended treachery. They were alone now, Mildred and Anna, and beckoning the latter to her side, Mildred said to her. “He meant Herbert Dunallen. How did he know that I am to be Herbert’s wife?” There was no tremor in her voice. She spoke of Herbert as a matter of course, while Anna could hardly find courage to reply. “Mr. Floyd works at Castlewild sometimes, and probably has heard Mr. Dunallen speak of you.” “Mr. Floyd—Adam Floyd, is that the young man’s name?” was Mildred’s next question, and when Anna answered in the affirmative, she continued, “I have heard of him. Herbert wrote how invaluable he was and how superior to most mechanics—his prime minister in fact. I am glad the accident happened here, and Herbert too will be glad.” For a moment Mildred seemed to be thinking, then starting up, she said, abruptly, “And it was Anna—Anna Burroughs, yes, I’m sure that’s the name. Would you mind putting that lamp nearer to me, and coming yourself where I can see just how you look?” Anna shrank from the gaze of those clear, truthful eyes, but something in Mildred’s manner impelled her to do as she was requested, and moving the lamp she came so near that Mildred placed a hand on either side of her burning face and gazed at it curiously; then, pushing back the golden hair, and twining one of the curls a moment about her finger, she laid it by her own long, black shining tresses, saying sadly, “I wish my curls were light and fair like yours. It would suit Herbert better. He fancies a blonde more than a brunette, at least he told me as much that time he wrote to me of you.” “Of me?” Anna asked anxiously, the color receding from her cheek and lip. “Why did he write of me, and when?” The dark eyes were shut now and Anna could see the closed lids quiver, just as did the sweet voice which replied, “It’s strange to talk so openly to you as if we were dear friends, as we will be when I come to Castlewild to live. It is my nature to say right out what I think, and people sometimes call me silly. Herbert does, but I don’t care. When I like a person I show it, and I like you. Besides, there’s something tells me there is a bond of sympathy between us greater than between ordinary strangers. I guess it is because we are both engaged, both so young, and both rather pretty, too. You certainly are, and I know I am not bad looking, if Aunt Theo. did use to try and make me think I was. Her story and the mirror’s did not agree.”