“She will be here presently. It looks as if it might rain, and I have sent the carriage for her and Lily. Ah, here they are!” Mrs. Cameron entered, clothed in black silk. She always wore black; and behind her came Lily, in the spotless colour that became her name; no ornament, save a slender gold chain to which was appended a single locket, and a single blush rose in her hair. She looked wonderfully lovely; and with that loveliness there was a certain nameless air of distinction, possibly owing to delicacy of form and colouring; possibly to a certain grace of carriage, which was not without a something of pride. Mr. Braefield, who was a very punctual man, made a sign to his servant, and in another moment or so dinner was announced. Sir Thomas, of course, took in the hostess; Mr. Braefield, the vicar’s wife (she was a dean’s daughter); Kenelm, Mrs. Cameron; and the vicar, Lily. On seating themselves at the table Kenelm was on the left hand, next to the hostess, and separated from Lily by Mrs. Cameron and Mr. Emlyn; and when the vicar had said grace, Lily glanced behind his back and her aunt’s at Kenelm (who did the same thing), making at him what the French call a _moue_. The pledge to her had been broken. She was between two men very much grown up,--the vicar and the host. Kenelm returned the _moue_ with a mournful smile and an involuntary shrug. All was silent till, after his soup and his first glass of sherry, Sir Thomas began,-- “I think, Mr. Chillingly, we have met before, though I had not the honour then of making your acquaintance.” Sir Thomas paused before he added, “Not long ago; the last State ball at Buckingham Palace.” Kenelm bent his head acquiescingly. He had been at that ball. “You were talking with a very charming woman,--a friend of mine,--Lady Glenalvon.” (Sir Thomas was Lady Glenalvon’s banker.) “I remember perfectly,” said Kenelm. “We were seated in the picture gallery. You came to speak to Lady Glenalvon, and I yielded to you my place on the settee.” “Quite true; and I think you joined a young lady, very handsome,--the great heiress, Miss Travers.” Kenelm again bowed, and, turning away as politely as he could, addressed himself to Mrs. Cameron. Sir Thomas, satisfied that he had impressed on his audience the facts of his friendship with Lady Glenalvon and his attendance at the court ball, now directed his conversational powers towards the vicar, who, utterly foiled in the attempt to draw out Lily, met the baronet’s advances with the ardour of a talker too long suppressed. Kenelm continued, unmolested, to ripen his acquaintance with Mrs. Cameron. She did not, however, seem to lend a very attentive ear to his preliminary commonplace remarks about scenery or weather, but at his first pause, said,-- “Sir Thomas spoke about a Miss Travers: is she related to a gentleman who was once in the Guards, Leopold Travers?” “She is his daughter. Did you ever know Leopold Travers?”