On the strength of his wealth and rank, of many a pretty present forced upon her unwillingly, yet with her father's consent, and curiously enough upon his great seniority to her in years, which enabled him 'to do the paternal,' as Mrs. Trelawney once said, Lord Cadbury assumed a kind of right of proprietary in Alison Cheyne that was very galling to the latter before her guests, and under the sense of which Bevil Goring chafed in secret as he drank his wine in silence and gnawed his moustache in sheer anger, for Alison was fast becoming to him more than he might ever dare acknowledge to herself. 'You must have married when very young, Mrs. Trelawney,' said Dalton, who was plying her daughter with grapes and crystallised fruits. 'Yes--I was just seventeen.' 'It is so romantic to marry young.' 'Too romantic perhaps to be either a sensible or a practical proceeding,' said Mrs. Trelawney, her slender fingers contrasting in their whiteness with the deep crimson of her claret glass; 'but there is only one thing else better than marrying young.' 'And that is----' 'To die young, Captain Dalton!' she said, laughingly, yet with a curious flash in her soft hazel eyes. 'Like those whom the gods love?' 'Yes.' Dalton knew not what to make of these strange speeches, but after a time he began to see that she was rather given to indulging in wild and even bitter ones, yet all said laughingly; and he rapidly began to regard her as a species of beautiful enigma. To Alison it became apparent that a sudden change had come over her friend Laura at the first sight of Captain Dalton; she had grown pale and silent, and even _distrait_--so much so that Alison had whispered to her, 'Does he remind you of anyone?' 'Yes,' she had replied. 'Of whom?' 'Pardon me.' 'She is thinking of her dead husband, no doubt. Dear me, if this should prove a case!' thought the little match-maker, who saw that as the luncheon proceeded Mrs. Trelawney was all gaiety, smiles, and brilliance, and too evidently leaving nothing undone by sallies of wit to fascinate Dalton; and Alison felt grateful to her that by her gaiety she had made the little luncheon quite a success, as she felt it to have been when all returned to the drawing-room to have some music. 'Now, Laura dear,' said she, 'we all look to you first,' and Dalton led the widow to the piano, and she began to play readily with great brilliancy, force, and execution some very rare and difficult pieces of music, while he stood by and turned over the leaves; and when pressed to sing she began at once a little ballad the words of which were curious, and went to a singularly slow, sad, and wailing air:-- 'Think not of me in summer's blush, When flowers around thee spring, And warbling birds on every bush Their sweetest music sing. Think not of me, when winter stern, His icy throne uprears, And long lost friends with joy return, To tell of other years.