It did not occur to her that perhaps Captain Desfrayne, while not base enough to seek to win the splendid fortune in view by marrying one girl when he loved another, might yet desire to save the part promised to him by driving her to refuse to fulfil the contract. She might have remembered that he was to receive fifty thousand pounds if the refusal emanated from her, and only ten if he were the one to decline acceding to the wishes of the dead old man. Lois Turquand, however, was as little worldly wise as Paul Desfrayne, and her nature inclined toward romance and sentiment. As mistress of the house, she was consigned by Mrs. Ormsby to a dreadfully grand, well-nigh somber state bedroom, while Lady Quaintree and Blanche were conducted to a large, cheerful apartment, her ladyship wishing to have her pretty country friend with her. Lois stood gazing around the chamber for some time after she was left alone. Then she regarded the beautiful gardens beneath, lying bathed in a silvery flood of summer moonlight. All seemed so tranquil, so calm, so sweet, Lois felt as if she could be satisfied to let her life flow onward in this sylvan retreat without desiring a change. The morning came--the morning of the day when the soldiers in occupancy of the barracks at Holston were to give place to others. Lois and Blanche went out early into the grounds. The appearance of the beautiful young owner, in so sudden and mysterious a way, had created a profound sensation among the servants, but, although many a pair of curious eyes darted inquisitive glances from sheltered corners, not a soul was visible. The bright, pleasant, laughing voices of the girls were answered or echoed by the wild, soft warblings of innumerable birds. Blanche was more full of delight and admiration than even on the previous day. She led Lois down to a secluded path, which went slopingly to a wide sheet of water, dancing and gleaming as if crested with ten thousand diamonds. “There is a boat somewhere about here,” said Blanche Dormer. “I remember when we came here one day for a picnic some few years ago, we went on the water, and crossed over to that pavilion yonder. Do you see it?--there, by the water’s edge, yonder, nearly hidden by trees and climbing plants.” Lois looked across, and saw the fairylike summer-house. “It was an odd fancy to build it so that you could not reach it without crossing the water,” Blanche went on. “I am an excellent oar, and I should like to cross this afternoon, while we leave Lady Quaintree to her siesta.” The girls returned to breakfast in the gayest of spirits. At that hour Paul Desfrayne was being whirled down from London. In the afternoon, Gilardoni, who had attended his new master, remarked how pale and weary he looked.