With all her beauty, Mary Wellwood had not yet had a lover. No man had addressed her in terms of admiration or love, and this fact, together with the somewhat secluded life she led, made the (perhaps passing) attentions of Colville of more importance than they would have seemed to a young lady living in the world like Miss Galloway, and, if the gallant Guardsman was only amusing himself, it was rather cruel of him; so Mary's emotions were of a somewhat mixed nature. Could she but fashion her little tell-tale face for a brief period, and make it stony as that of a sphinx! A curious sense of wrong, of deception--even probable sorrow and affront, possessed her, mingled with that of a new and timid delight. The touch of his hand seemed to magnetise her, and yet she longed to get away from the reach of his eyes, his subtle and detaining voice, for were they not the property of Blanche Galloway! 'Why should he wrong her and love me, as I actually think he does?' surmised Mary. 'What can I be to him more than a flower perhaps by his wayside of life, to be passed and forgotten when he goes back to that gay world which is peculiarly his--the great whirling world of "Society." Worthy of him; I so poor can never hope to be, and that proud, imperious girl would soon teach him to forget me!' So thought and mused the girl--fondly, sadly, and bitterly--and turning from the music of the band, and the gay groups that laughed and chatted around her, she gazed down a vista of silver birches that led towards the house, and saw their stems glittering like silver columns in the flecks of sunshine. Blanche Galloway was not long in discovering that the little bouquet her own hands had assorted for Colville was now in the breast of Mary Wellwood's dress, and as she turned bluntly away from the latter, Dr. Wodrow, who knew not the cause thereof, remarked to his better-half that their young hostess had given Mary 'a dark look--such a look as Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite, might have given.' Leslie Colville too ere long detected dark looks in the face of Robert Wodrow, who abruptly took his departure; and the former felt piqued and annoyed to find himself, as he believed, the rival of a mere 'bumpkin,' all unaware that Ellinor was the cause of Robert's wrath; and meanwhile where was that young lady? CHAPTER XI. IN THE CONSERVATORY.