Gladly did she hail her aunt's signal to leave the dinner-table, and had she been alone would have openly expressed to Mrs. Herbert her opinion of their visitor. But quietly leaning back in her chair while the elder ladies talked, Mary Armstrong began to reflect. Had she any right to despise this young captain because he had peculiarities and foibles? She had heard her aunt say that Reginald Fraser had been motherless from his birth, and to his father's neglect might be attributed much that was disagreeable or affected in his manners, which in other respects she was obliged to acknowledge were those of a gentleman. "Would my dear grandfather have approved of my treating this young man with contempt?" she asked herself. "With all his plain country manners he was a true Christian gentleman, one of those who would not for the world say or do anything to pain or mortify another. Again, how would Henry Halford treat Reginald Fraser?" she asked herself. The answer was plain; she knew how he would have acted, for Mr. Henry Halford would not forget the advantages of his own happy home, and the careful training he had received from his own mother. Thus reasoning, Mary Armstrong decided that during her visit to Park Lane she would bear with this weak-minded young man, and treat him kindly in spite of his foibles. But too much crooked policy exists in the world for straightforward conduct and honest intentions to meet with a due reward. Mary's innocent, unsuspecting proceedings were mistaken by Captain Fraser for a growing attachment to himself. During the month of her stay in Park Lane she had been associated with many men and women belonging to the best society, and more than one of the former had been attracted by the colonel's niece, and were ready to offer her a position in society quite sufficient to satisfy her father's pride. But there was something in the manner of Mary Armstrong which repelled foolish flirtation, and completely prevented any attentions of a more honourable nature. These gentlemen were too greatly superior to Reginald Fraser for her to venture the kind of patronising notice she bestowed upon the tall, effeminate young soldier. And yet in her innocent ignorance of the world she was preparing for herself a bitter and unexpected trial. On Mary's last evening at Park Lane no other visitor had been admitted excepting Captain Fraser, and after playing and singing, _to him_ (as he thought), all the evening, she felt tired of his exclusive attention, and rose to retire, something in his manner of bidding her farewell made her say to herself as she ascended the stairs, "Well, I am glad that's over; I do not think I could endure Captain Fraser's society for another day; and then to think that he should have the impertinence to squeeze my hand! At all events, uncle and aunt can never accuse me of being rude to their visitor."