"She is really turning everybody's head. I never saw anything like it," said the young lady in question over and over again, whenever she got a chance of Mrs Wentworth to herself. "Noll is grateful for a glance; and Fred"--Fred was Captain Helmont--"who is considered a tremendous critic, admires her out and out, only, of course, his admiration is due elsewhere." He was shortly to be married to a girl not at that time one of the party at The Fells. "I don't know what Lady Lucy would say to it if she were here." Mrs Wentworth smiled. Captain Helmont had been one of her dreams for Imogen before they came. "Lady Lucy is very pretty herself, some one said," she remarked politely. "Not a patch on Imogen, if I may call her so," Miss Forsyth continued. "But _the_ marvel," and here she dropped her voice discreetly, "is Major Winchester! A man who never knows if a woman has a nose on her face or not--who stalks about the world like the great Mogul. Of course, we all admire him and respect him--oh, immensely!--but we look upon him as a being quite apart. And there he is--perfectly devoted--taking the greatest interest in these theatricals, which as a rule he would have thought beneath contempt, and all, I am sure, for your daughter's sake. Trixie and I can't get over it." Mrs Wentworth's smile was positively beaming. "My dear Miss Forsyth, you are too kind, too partial," she said. "I quite appreciate all you say, but--I must not have Imogen spoilt. She is so young. Major Winchester, for instance--I am sure he considers her a perfect child." "But she is not--not in _some_ ways," Mabella went on, insidiously. "She has been so well brought up,"--and here she sighed deeply--"so well educated. I heard Rex saying to some one that he could see she had excellent abilities. It will be such a good thing for my poor Trixie if a girl like that takes to her--her influence would be everything. Much better than mine," here she sighed again. "I can do my friends no good, I can only love them. _I_ was not well brought up--far from it, as I daresay you can see for yourself." "Poor dear!" said Mrs Wentworth, too ingenuous herself to doubt another, and too candid to express any civil disagreement. She gently stroked Mabella's hand, while the ready tears rose to her eyes. "You had no mother, perhaps?"