Her obstinate mood was returning; they saw that, and they let her escape for a time. Adela, the youngest and most beautiful of all their children, had been reprehensibly indulged: allowed to grow up in the belief that the world was made for her. "Well, Adela, and how have you sped?" asked Grace. "Oh, I don't know," was Adela's answer, as she flung herself into a low chair by her dressing-table. "Mamma is so fond of telling us that the world's full of trouble; and I think it is." "Have you consented?" "No. And I don't intend to consent." "But why not? He is very nice; very; and the advantages are very great. Tell me why you will not, Adela--_dear_ Adela?" Adela turned her head away. "I do not care to marry yet; him, or any other man." A light--or rather a doubt--seemed to break upon Lady Grace. "Adela," she whispered, "it is not possible you are still thinking of Captain Stanley?" "Where would be the use of that?" was the answer. "He is fighting in India, and I am here: little chance of our paths in life ever again crossing each other." "If I really thought your head was still running upon Stanley, I would tell you----" "What?" for Grace had stopped. "The truth," was the reply, in a low voice. "News of him reached England by the last mail." "What news?" "Well, I--I hardly know whether you will care much to hear it." "Probably not. I should like to, for all that." "He is married." Adela looked up with a start, and her colour faded. "Married?" "He is. He has married his cousin, a Miss Stanley, and it is said they have long been attached to each other. He was a frightful flirt, but he had no heart; I always said it; and I think he was not a good man in other respects." The news brought a pang of mortification to Adela; perhaps a deeper pang than that. Some eighteen months back, she saw a good deal of this Captain Stanley; it was thought by shrewd observers that she had lost her heart to him. If so, it was now thrown back upon her. And, whether it might have been this, or whether it was the persistent persuasion of her father and mother, ay, and of her sisters, Adela Chenevix consented to accept Mr. Grubb. But she bitterly resented the necessity, and from that hour she deliberately steeled her heart against him. Daintily she swept into the room for her first interview with him. He stood in agitation at its upper end--a fine, intellectual man; one, young though he was, to be venerated and loved. She wore a pink-and-white silk dress, and her hair had pink and white roses in it; for Mr. Grubb had come to dinner, and she was already dressed for it. A rich colour shone in her cheeks, her beautiful eyes and features were lighted up with it, and her delicate figure was thrown back--in disdain. Oh, that he could have read it then! He never afterwards quite remembered what he said when he approached her. He knew he took her hand. And he believed he whispered words of thanks.