The great poet Tennyson has, in one of his greatest poems, portrayed a girl who, all unconscious of the bitter moments awaiting her, decked herself in her brightest ribbons to receive her expected lover. Bright ribbons are out of fashion now, but Una had paid some, for her, extraordinary attention to her toilet. Jack was never tired of calling her beautiful; had even gone so far as to speak of her loveliness, and it had raised no vanity in her; but this evening she felt she would like to appear really and truly beautiful in his eyes, so beautiful that even Lady Bell's spirited face should be forgotten. She had chosen the dress he liked best; had selected, with unusual care, a couple of flowers from the costly bouquet, which, morning and evening, was sent to her room from the hot-houses, and had decked herself in the locket and bracelet, and ring which Jack had given her. Mrs. Davenant had made her many presents of jewelry, some of it costly, and even rare; but she would not wear anything but Jack's own gifts tonight. "He will come fresh from Lady Bell's diamonds and sapphires, and would think little of mine, beautiful as they are; but he will like to see his locket and his bracelet, and will know that I love him best." Not once, but twice and thrice she had moved from the window to the glass, and looked into it. Not with any expression of pleased vanity, but rather with merciless criticism. For the first time, she would like to be as beautiful as Jack thought her. For the last few days she had been rather silent, and somewhat pale. Stephen's cunning hints respecting Jack and Lady Bell had had their effect; but tonight's expectation, and the nearness of Jack's approach, had brought a faint rose-like tint to her cheeks, and her eyes shone with the subtle light of love and hope. Mrs. Davenant looked up at her as she entered the drawing-room and smiled affectionately. "How well you look tonight, dear," she said, as she kissed her and drew her down beside her. "I'm inclined to believe Jack, when he says that you grow more beautiful than ever." "Hush," said Una, but with a blush. "Jack says so many foolish things, dear." "If he never said anything more foolish than that he would be a wise man," said Mrs. Davenant. "How long would he be now, dear?" Una glanced at the clock. "Just forty minutes," she said simply. Mrs. Davenant smiled and patted her hand. "Counting the very minutes," she murmured, gently. "What a thing love is! What would life be without it?" "Death," said Una, with a grave smile. "Worse than death." Mrs. Davenant sighed. "Jack is a happy man," she said. "I wonder whether Stephen will come down this evening?" "Do you not know?" said Una, absently. "No," replied Mrs. Davenant. "I thought, perhaps, he might have told you." "Me!" said Una, with open eyes. "Oh, no. Why should he?" "I didn't know," said Mrs. Davenant, quietly. "He tells you everything, I think." Una smiled.