in which his eyes and Katharine's met, and perfectly understood and appreciated the position; had he known that she marked the short dialogue which passed between them on the staircase, and noted the coldness and distance of its tone with distinct satisfaction. He and she talked with more animation, and of subjects of more worth and interest, than those usually discussed at a ball; for even a shallow man like Gordon Frere was forced to think a little when he found himself talking to a woman like Hester Gould; and they got on together very well indeed; but the unconscious accord of their thoughts was greater and closer still. Curiosity, interest, and the spontaneous admiration which he was certain to excite in every woman whom he addressed, had been the first feelings with which Hester Gould had regarded Gordon Frere on that evening. Before she entered the carriage to which he escorted her and Lady Henmarsh, her admiration had increased, her interest had deepened. The calm, well-governed heart, which held itself aloof from passion, and had never loved any living being entirely without calculation and caution, had been surprised, like the weakest, like the least-guarded. Hester Gould had fallen in love--ay, like the veriest sentimental school-girl--at first sight, with Gordon Frere. She did not deny the fact to herself; she did not deceive herself. It was characteristic of her to be perfectly conscious that she was weak, but not to disguise from herself the weakness. Hester Gould had never been visited by even the most transient feeling to which she could assign the name of love before; and now, when it came, she knew it, she recognised it, she acknowledged it--not with misgiving, not with despair, not with self-contempt. When she was alone that night, or rather in the early summer morning, her ball-dress laid aside, her maid dismissed, she threw open the window of her dressing-room, and sat down where the cool morning air came in and fanned her dark but radiant face. The time wore on, and the sun came out strongly, and the stir of life began, but still Hester sat, gazing out towards the stately leafy trees in Kensington Gardens, and thinking. For the first time in her life she suffered the tide of strong emotion to sweep over her unchecked; for the first time in her life she felt its fulness. Secretly but desperately she had rebelled against poverty and obscurity; secretly, thirstingly, she had longed for wealth. Poverty and obscurity were things of the past; wealth had come to her, and she had taken it calmly. No human being could ever have guessed at the exultation with which Hester Gould had entered upon the possession of her fortune; no human being could ever have divined the intense secret pleasure which every day's enjoyment of it gave her. But what was it all to this? What was it all to the strange new delight, the sweet subtle hope that stole upon her now? Not until she had thought long,