She went regularly to church on Sunday morning with great decorum, turning over the pages of her beautiful ivory-covered church service at the proper time, and always put sovereigns on the plate with much liberality when there was a collection. She gave directions to her housekeeper in the country to deal out coats, and blankets, and all that sort of thing, to deserving applicants. If flower-girls, or wretched-looking beggars, crowded round her carriage when she went out shopping, they not unfrequently received sixpences as a bribe to take themselves and their miseries out of sight. So that, altogether, her ladyship felt she had a reason to rely on being defended from all adversities which might happen to the body, and all evil thoughts which might assault and hurt the soul. Lady Quaintree was nearly asleep when a liveried servant drew aside the velvet portière, and announced: “Captain Desfrayne and Mr. Amberley!” Paul Desfrayne’s glance swept the suite of apartments, as if in search of the girl who unconsciously held the threads of his destiny in her hands; but, to his relief, she was not to be seen. He allowed himself to be led up to the mistress of the house, and went through the ceremony of introduction like one in a dream. Lady Quaintree spoke to him, and made some smiling remarks; but he was unable to do more than reply intelligibly in monosyllables. The first words that broke upon his half-dazed senses with anything like clearness were uttered by Frank Amberley. “Not so much, my dear aunt, to pay our respects to you as to communicate a most important matter of business to--to Miss Turquand. I suppose we ought to have come at a proper hour in the business part of the day, but it was my idea to, if possible, take off the--in fact, I imagined it might be the most pleasant way of introducing Captain Desfrayne to bring him here this evening.” Lady Quaintree had opened her eyes at the commencement of this speech. “A most important matter of business concerning Miss Turquand?” she said. “What can it possibly be?” “She certainly ought to be the first to hear it,” replied Frank Amberley; “though, as her nearest friend, my dear aunt, you ought to learn the facts as soon as herself.” “You have a sufficiently mysterious air, Frank. I feel eager to hear these wonderful tidings.” Her ladyship felt a little piqued that her nephew did not offer at once to give her at least some hint of what the important matter of business might be about. A sudden thought seemed to strike her, and she rang a tiny, silver hand-bell with some sharpness, while an expression of anxiety crossed her face. As she did so, a figure, so ethereal that it seemed like an emanation of fancy, floated unexpectedly from the entrance to the farthest room, and came down the length of the two salons beyond that in which the little group was stationed. For a moment it seemed as if this fairylike vision had appeared in response to the musical tingling of the bell.