She had never been blind to one of her children's faults, and up to a certain age it had been her habit on the eve of their birthdays, to talk quietly to them, pointing out their failings and defective habits, and giving her opinion on the year's improvement. "On a birthday one ought to begin afresh," she would say, "and make a new start." How well Bessie could remember these talks, and the gentle words of praise that generally closed them. She was almost sorry when she was too grown up for them, and quiet self-examinations took the place of those fond maternal admonitions. When Bessie joined the family at breakfast she found Mr. Sinclair helping Edna with the urn. He accosted Bessie with much friendliness, and seemed pleased to see her again. She had been prepossessed with him at their first meeting, and she thought his manner still pleasanter on this second occasion, and she was struck afresh with his air of quiet refinement. He took part in the conversation with much animation, and talked more to Richard than to any one else. Edna did not appear to have recovered herself; she took very little notice of anybody, and received her _fiancé's_ attention rather ungraciously. Bessie thought she looked as though she had not slept well; her eyes had a heavy look in them, as though her head ached. Bessie had her ride directly afterward, and as Richard assisted her to mount, Mr. Sinclair stood on the steps and watched them. "What are you and Edna going to do with yourselves?" asked Richard presently. Mr. Sinclair smiled. "I shall do whatever Edna likes; perhaps she will drive me somewhere; she looks as though the fresh air would do her good. I shall have to go back to town this evening, so I must make the most of my day in the country." The house was so still when they returned that Bessie thought they had started for the drive, when she ran upstairs to take off her habit. She seated herself presently by one of the drawing-room windows with her work, wondering what everyone was doing. Her work interested her, and she was quietly enjoying herself when she heard quick footsteps in the hall outside, and a moment afterward a door slammed. "They have come back, I suppose," thought Bessie; and she worked on, until the drawing-room door opened and Mr. Sinclair came in alone. He seemed surprised to see Bessie, but the next minute he had crossed the room hastily. "Miss Lambert, will you do me a favor? I cannot find Mrs. Sefton, and I have no one else to ask." "Certainly," returned Bessie, and she rose at once. Mr. Sinclair looked pale and troubled, and his manner was extremely nervous. "Then will you be so good as to beg Edna to come down to me for a moment; she has misunderstood--that is, I wish to speak to her--there is a slight misconception. Edna has gone to her own room."