irritation, and till the chafing of the crumpled rose-leaf against the sensitive skin of the proud woman’s self-esteem grew to be a painful, and in process of time a never-to-be-cicatrised sore. Nor was Cecil Vavasour long behindhand in awaking from the one delusion that had so effectually changed for him the cherished habits of a life. The conviction that the love in which he had believed had been but a passing fancy, and the certainty that he was solely valued by her as a stepping-stone on which to rise to rank, were not subjects for agreeable reflection. But though Vavasour was capable of feeling keenly the wrong--for wrong it was--that had been done him, he was the last man in the world either to complain of, or to grow silently morbid under, its infliction; only by his deeds could it be surmised that he was an unwilling sharer in the good things procurable by the Lady Millicent’s gold; and as, previously to his marriage, he had steadfastly resisted the making of any _settlement_ by which he could in his own person benefit, so did he, after becoming convinced of his wife’s indifference, keep with rigid economy his private expenses within the scope of his own limited means to defray, while he abstained as much as lay in his power from indulgence in luxuries which those means would, unassisted, have been inadequate to procure for him. Setting aside this glaring instance (which it clearly was) of eccentricity, Cecil Vavasour, as was universally allowed, acted well up to the obligations imposed upon the rich and powerful. There was no lordly house throughout the length and breadth of the land in which the rights of hospitality were exercised with a more liberal hand than at the various residences owned and occupied by the Vavasour family. At Gillingham Castle especially, where the establishment was on an almost princely scale, the grand old house was twice a year brimming over with guests, and far and wide spread the reputation for “good entertaining” of the Lady Millicent and her consort. But for all that this was so, and although Cecil Vavasour was loved and appreciated by the poor, whose invaluable friend and adviser he ever proved himself to be, he was not generally popular either with his equals or his superiors in social position. To anyone accustomed to look inquiringly into human motives, and to those who have gained knowledge of mankind by enlarged association with their fellows, the fact that Cecil Vavasour, with all his excellence, his gentleness and his hospitality, was not generally a favourite, will excite but little surprise. As a rule, the silent and apparently self-conceited man rarely meets with favour, for silence is too often taken for a diagnostic of pride, and pride is of all human qualities the one which both men and women find the most difficult to pardon. But there was yet another quality, and it was the one to which his taciturnity was mainly to be attributed, that interfered greatly