The last word was drowned in a shiver of glass. Both of them turned hastily. Mr. Bede Greatorex, in taking his elbow from the ormolu cabinet behind the sofa, had accidentally knocked down a beautiful miniature fountain of Bohemian glass, which had been throwing up its choice perfume. "He certainly heard me," breathed Clare Joliffe, excessively discomfited. "I never knew he was there." The breakage caused some commotion, and must have annoyed Mr. Bede Greatorex. He rang the bell loudly for a servant, and those who caught a view of his face, saw that it had a white stillness on it, painful as death. Roland made his escape. The evening, so far as he was concerned, seemed a failure, and he thought he would leave the rooms without further ceremony. Leaping down the staircase a flight at a time, he met Jane Greatorex ascending attended by her coloured maid. "Halloa! what brings you sitting up so late as this?" cried free Roland. "We've been spending the evening with grandpapa in his room," answered Jane. "He gave us some cakes and jam, and Miss Channing made the tea. I've got to go to bed now." "Where's Miss Channing?" "She's there, in grandpapa's room, waiting to finish the curtain I tore." Away went Roland, casting thought to the winds in the prospect of seeing Annabel at last, and burst into Mr. Greatorex's room, after giving a smart knock at the door. The wonder was that he knocked at all. Annabel was alone mending the crimson silk curtain of the lower bookcase. Jane, dashing it open to look after some book, had torn the curtain woefully; so Miss Channing took it from its place and set to work to repair it. To be thus unceremoniously invaded brought a flush to her cheeks--perhaps she could not have told why--and Roland saw that her eyes were red and heavy. Sitting at the table, near the lamp, she went on quietly with her work. "Where's old Greatorex?" demanded Roland. "I thought he was here." "Mr. Greatorex is gone into his consulting-room. Some one came to see him." Down sat Roland on the other side of the table; and, as a preliminary to proceedings, pulled his whiskers and took a long stare right into the young lady's face. "I say, Annabel, why are you not at the party tonight?" "I don't always care to go in. Mrs. Greatorex gives so many parties." "Well, I came to it only for one purpose; and that was to see you. I should not have bothered to dress myself for anybody else. Hamish and his wife are there." "I did not feel very well this evening." "No, I don't suppose you did. And, besides that, I expect the fact is, that Mrs. Bede never invited you. She is a beauty!" "Roland!" "You may go on at me till tomorrow if you like, Annabel; I shall say it. She's a tyrannical, mean-spirited, heartless image; and I shall be telling her so some day to her face. You should hear what Clare Joliffe says of her selfishness." In the midst of her vexation, Miss Channing could not forbear a smile. Roland was never more serious in his life.