"Now I wonder what my father would have said if he had come in just then!" she exclaimed, holding her fan in front of her face, and looking at me with laughingly reproachful eyes over the top of its wavy feathers. "Mind, you must be on your very best behaviour this evening, and not attempt to talk to me too much. He hasn't seen me for five years, and I don't want him to think me frivolous." "Your father! My God! is he here?" I gasped, leaning back against the table, and clutching hold of it with nervous fingers. The room seemed swimming round with me, and Maud's face alone remained distinct. "He's coming to-night," she said, looking at me in amazement. "What difference can it make to you? Why, Mr. Ar---- Hugh, you are ill!" she exclaimed, shutting up her fan and moving to my side. I held out my hand to keep her away. God forbid that Rupert Devereux's daughter should rest in my arms again. "Coming here!" I muttered. "Coming here to-night!" The idea seemed almost too much for me to realise. How could I sit at the same table with him? How breathe the same air without letting him know of my hate? And this was his daughter Maud--my Maud, my princess. The idea seemed almost to choke me. The second dinner gong boomed out, and I raised myself at once. "I'm afraid I frightened you, M---- Miss Devereux. I won't stop to explain now. They will be wanting you in the drawing-room." I opened the door for her, and she swept out and across the polished oak and rug-strewn floor of the hall, lifting her eyes to mine for one moment as she passed, full of a strange, sweet light. For a brief while I lingered behind; then, with a great efforts regaining my calmness, I followed her. CHAPTER XXII FACE TO FACE I sat between Lady Olive and her younger sister at dinner, and I have no doubt that both found me very stupid and inattentive. I could neither eat nor drink, talk nor laugh. Even Lady Olive gave me up at last, and devoted her attention to Captain Hasleton, her neighbour on the other side. It was not until dinner was nearly over that I was able to rouse myself in the slightest degree, and by that time Lady Olive had quite lost her temper with me. "Skating doesn't agree with you, Mr. Arbuthnot," she whispered, when at last Maud had given the signal to rise. "I never knew any one so provokingly stupid in all my life." I shrugged my shoulders deprecatingly. "I'm sorry, Lady Olive," I said, grimly, "but if you felt as I do for five minutes you'd forgive me," which was perfectly true. She looked up at me with a pitying glance, and I suppose something in my expression told her that I was suffering, for her piquant little face clouded over at once. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Arbuthnot. You look as though you had a very bad headache. Come to me in the drawing-room as soon as you can, and I'll give you some sal volatile."