Not that Cinthia gave him any particular encouragement to come, beyond simple courtesy; but he was vexed at himself for former rashness, and determined to try the effect of patient devotion in besieging her heart. Besides, there were other men now trying to rival him, and he must spare no effort to distance these rivals. Arthur did not always accompany his cousin on his visits; but he could not avoid meeting Cinthia often in the social life at Weir Park, and it seemed to him that she grew more bright and beautiful daily as the unattainable always grows more lovely to our eyes. Whether she appeared in silk and lace and nodding plumes at some garden-party, or in yacht costume for a lake excursion, or in cycling suit on her wheel, or in evening-dress at some gay reception, Cinthia was always lovelier than before to his admiring eyes, and he thought, generously: “I thank Heaven that the dear girl has the means to gratify her expensive tastes, for who knows how much it has helped in the cure of her heart. Besides, she has now several lovers every way as desirable as I ever was, and even if she refuses Fred she is sure to choose one of the others.” Why was she sure to do so? Had not his mother presented to him scores of pretty girls without touching his heart? Why should Cinthia’s fancy be turned aside more lightly than his own? “The wind bloweth where it listeth, And so with Love.” CHAPTER XXX. MYSTERIES. Madame Ray looked on at the little by-play with rather puzzled eyes. For once Cinthia’s pride had enabled her to keep her own confidence. She told her friend nothing of what had passed between her and Arthur Varian, choosing to let her believe that indifference had triumphed over love at last. Madame Ray simply did not believe it, but she was mystified by the new attitude of the quondam lovers, and she resented in secret Arthur’s reappearance on the scene. She wished eagerly that Cinthia would lose her heart to Fred Foster or some of her other lovers, but she did not believe that there was the least chance of it. But the more she saw of Arthur Varian the more she was attracted by his true manliness, until her first opinion of him, her preconceived detestation, dissolved into thin air, and she became more and more convinced that not simply a slavish submission to his mother’s will, but some mysterious, impassable barrier, separated him from Cinthia. She had carried out her intention of questioning old Uncle Rube as to the name of Mrs. Varian’s divorced husband, but he had suddenly pretended an amazing stupidity and loss of memory that was inconceivable, measured by his former sprightliness. On being perniciously pressed by the lady, he admitted that the name, “as well as he could _recomember_, was Brown.” She did not guess that an interview with Arthur Varian had caused the loss of memory in the old servitor of the Varian family. “It was money in his pocket to forget the past when questioned by any one,” Arthur cautioned him.