"Philosophy does not interest me at present," she said. "I like flowers, music, and dancing better. I hope I shall never tire of them; sometimes--but that is only when I am serious or tired--I feel that I shall never live to grow old. I can not imagine my eyes dim or my hair gray. I can not imagine my heart beating slowly. I can not realize a day when the warmth and beauty of life will have changed into cold and dullness." Even as she spoke a gentle arm stole round her, a fair, spirituelle face, eyes full of clear, saintly light looked into hers, and a soft voice whispered to her of something not earthly, not of flowers and music, not of life and gayety, something far beyond these, and the proud eyes for a moment grew dim with tears. "Lily," she said, "I am not so good as you, but I will endeavor to be. Let me enjoy myself first, just for a short time; I will be good, dear." Her mood changed then, and Lord Airlie thought her more entrancing than ever. "That is the kind of wife I want," thought Lionel Dacre to himself, looking at Lillian--"some one to guide me, to teach me. Ah, if women only understood their mission! That girl looked as I can imagine only guardian angels look--I wish she would be mine." Lord Airlie left the conservatory, with its thousand flowers, more in love than ever. He would wait, he said to himself, until the ball was over; then he would ask Beatrice Earle to be his wife. If she refused him, he would go far away where no one knew him; if she accepted him, he would be her devoted slave. She should be a queen, and he would be her knight. Ah! What thanks would he return to Heaven if so great a blessing should be his. Chapter XXVIII Lord Airlie muttered something that was not a benediction when, on the morning following, Gaspar Laurence made his appearance at Earlescourt. "We can not receive visitors this morning," said Beatrice, half impatiently. "Mr. Laurence must have forgotten the ball tonight." But Mr. Laurence had forgotten nothing of the kind. It was a delicious morning, the sun shining brightly and clearly, the westerly breeze blowing fresh and cool. He had thought it likely that the young ladies would spend the morning out-of-doors, and begged permission to join them. Lady Earle was pleased with the idea. Lord Airlie mentioned something about fatigue, but he was overruled. "Stroll in the grounds," said Lady Helena; "go down by the lake; I will join you there afterward. A few hours in the fresh air will be the best preparation for the ball." They went together. Gaspar's preference soon became apparent he would not leave Beatrice, and Lord Airlie devotedly wished him at the antipodes. They sat down under the shade of a tall lady-birch, the deep, sunlit lake shining through the trees. Then Gaspar, taking a little book in his hands, asked: "Have you read 'Undine,' Miss Earle--Fouque's 'Undine?'" "No," she replied; "I am half ashamed to say so."