The auspicious week dawned. The young Squire's coming of age went off without a flaw. The day was a perfect one in August. All the tenants assembled at the Court to welcome Awdrey to his majority. His modest and graceful speech was applauded on all sides. He never looked better than when he stood on a raised platform and addressed the tenants who had known him from his babyhood. Some day he was to be their landlord. In Wiltshire the tie between landlord and tenant is very strong. The spirit of the feudal times still in a measure pervades this part of the country. The cheers which followed Awdrey's speech rose high on the evening air. Immediately afterward there was supper on the lawn, followed by a dance. Among those assembled, however, might have been seen two anxious faces--one of them belonged to Mrs. Armitage. She had been a young-looking woman for her years, until after the night of the murder--now she looked old, her hair was sprinkled with gray, her face had deep lines in it, there was a touch of irritation also in her manner. She and Hetty kept close together. Sometimes her hand clutched hold of the hand of her niece and gave it a hard pressure. Hetty's little hand trembled, and her whole frame quivered with almost uncontrollable agony when Mrs. Armitage did this. All the gay scene was ghastly mockery to poor Hetty. Her distress, her wasted appearance, could not but draw general attention to her. The little girl, however, had never looked more beautiful nor lovely. She was observed by many people; strangers pointed her out to one another. "Do you see that little girl with the beautiful face?" they said. "It was on her account that the tragedy took place." Presently the young Squire came down and asked Mrs. Armitage to open the ball with him. "You do me great honor, sir," she said. She hesitated, then placed her hand on his arm. As he led her away, his eyes met those of Hetty. "I'll give you a dance later on," he said, nodding carelessly to the young girl. She blushed and pressed her hand to her heart. There wasn't a village lad in the entire assembly who would not have given a year of his life to dance even once with beautiful little Hetty, but she declined all the village boys' attentions that evening. "She wasn't in the humor to dance," she said. "Oh, yes, of course, she would dance with the Squire if he asked her, but she would not bestow her favors upon any one else." She sat down presently in a secluded corner. Her eyes followed Awdrey wherever he went. By and by Margaret Douglas noticed her. There was something about the childish sad face which drew out the compassion of Margaret's large heart. She went quickly across the lawn to speak to her. "Good-evening, Hetty," she said, "I hope you are well?" Hetty stood up; she began to tremble. "Yes, Miss Douglas, I am quite well," she answered. "You don't look well," said Margaret. "Why are you not dancing?"