The next morning a box was sent to Thea’s room, and on opening it she found a beautiful riding-habit of dark-blue cloth and a cap to match. To her surprise, it fitted exactly, and in the pretty little watch-pocket she found a card: “TO MY LITTLE SISTER.” A momentary cloud came over the radiant face, and Thea sighed as she murmured: “Sister!” Evidently she had not become reconciled to bearing that relation toward Norman de Vere. She stood a moment looking intently at her lovely reflection in the long mirror, and she could not help but see that she was surpassingly lovely. The dark, rich blue of the habit set off at their best the dazzling tints of her complexion and the living gold of her long curls. The close jacket showed every exquisite curve of the lissom, girlish figure. But the blue eyes flashed and the red lips curled into a pout as Thea gazed, and she sighed: “If he were younger, he could not be so cold.” She went down and found a beautiful, cream-white pony awaiting her pleasure. Norman, on a magnificent bay horse, looked his best, and his dark eyes kindled with admiration as he beheld Thea. How carefully he assisted her into the saddle, how particular he was that the dear little foot should be properly placed in the stirrup. He knew quite well that he held it in his hand something longer than was necessary. It was a temptation like the kiss of yesterday, impossible to resist. As they rode slowly away, side by side, he said: “Thea, I always longed for a sister. I think I should have had a happier lot in life if my wish had not been denied.” She gave him a frank, grateful smile, but could think of no words with which to answer. She did not want to be his sister, and to have him come to her some day to confide to her his love for some more fortunate woman whom he was going to make his wife. This thought rankled, and she sighed to herself: “If only I knew that he would never marry--that life could go on always like this, I should not mind so much. I would try to be content. But I am afraid, afraid!” She determined to turn the conversation from its sentimental turn at once, and by a little clever maneuvering soon had him engaged in a conversation descriptive of his foreign tour. Thea pretended so much interest that he presently promised to take her abroad next year if his mother would consent to go with them. “I am quite sure you would enjoy it,” he said. “But it would be tiresome to you. You have been through it all, and I would not like for you to make such a sacrifice to me.” The blue eyes looked wistfully at him a moment, but the fond, reassuring glance they met in return made the lashes fall hastily to her cheeks. “Do not call it a sacrifice, Sweetheart. It would be a pleasure to travel with you for a companion. I fancy that your interest in everything would make it doubly charming to me.” Thea’s heart thrilled at the words. She thought, half bitterly, half with amusement: