But here Honor interposed. She did not want the children to be troublesome; besides, the voice of conscience within her whispered that Arthur Vavasour was in duty bound, so soon after his arrival, to devote himself to his _fiancée_. “You are very kind, Mr. Vavasour,” she said; “but I think that the little ones must be tired; and Tommy,” stroking his swarthy cheek kindly as he leant against the skirt of her fresh muslin dress, “is a bad boy, and mustn’t be spoilt.” Perhaps Arthur understood her, for he said no more about the croquet game, nor did he, beyond a parting bow, respectful and commonplace, take any notice of her departure, with little Tommy clinging to her skirt, and the small blue-eyed girl, whose champion she had been, holding with all the force of her tiny fingers Honor’s hand in hers. “How pretty she is,” said Sophy, when they were out of hearing, “and so well dressed and well behaved, too! She made quite a graceful curtsey as she went away. I wonder where she learnt it.” At that moment Sophy was utterly devoid of any jealous feelings towards Mrs. Beacham. Hers was a very frank and unsuspicious nature, and moreover, what was there to fear? Had not her dearly-loved Arthur been instigated in his choice of her by love alone--a comfortable fact made evident beyond dispute by the brilliancy of Mr. Vavasour’s future prospects? In less than four years he would be one of the richest commoners in England; how, then, could she entertain any of those misgivings which are so apt to haunt the couch and damp the happy hopes of young ladies in Miss Duberly’s position? But there was yet another cause for the mind at ease with which “little Sophy” was blest, when, leaning on the arm of her betrothed, she paid a not unwilling tribute to Mrs. Beacham’s beauty. Ladies, more especially perhaps wealthy ones, are often rather apt to overrate the influence of their ladyhood _per se_, while the loveliness of women in a rank inferior to their own is shorn in their opinion, and for the mere reason of that inferiority, of half its powder to charm. The coldness, too, of Arthur’s parting salutation was well calculated to reassure one so inexperienced in human wiles as “old Dub’s” guileless daughter. How was she, poor child, to guess that, while _her_ heart was throbbing with almost wild delight at the unexpected happiness afforded by his presence, he, the faithless one, while giving no outward signs of aught save pleasure in her beaming smiles and tender words, was thinking only of the simplest, easiest way in which to make his escape to Honor, and turning over in his mind the least perilous words in which to reveal to the wife of his dead father’s friend the fact that he adored her! CHAPTER IV. THE HALF-REBUKE.