This view having presented itself, her ladyship wavered in the resolution of at once quitting Flore Hall. If Captain Desfrayne was determined not to profit by his advantageous position, but to drive Miss Turquand to refuse him, would he not be an eligible ally? Many a girl, she knew, slighted by one, eagerly if hastily accepted the next that offered. Yet, until she could ascertain _why_ Paul Desfrayne did not relish the bride proposed to him, she might be playing a dangerous game in allowing him to be too near her lovely protégée. Lady Quaintree felt thoroughly perplexed and unsettled, in fact, and could only arrive finally at the conclusion that the wisest plan would be to let herself be guided by a cautious observation of the course of events. “I wish we could have brought Gerald down with us,” she sighed. “However, the way must be clearer in a few days.” At Lois’ earnest entreaty, Lady Quaintree had taken all but the actual name of mistress in the house. She sat at the head of the table, and played the role of hostess. Owing to her consummate tact, the dinner did not pass so drearily as it might otherwise have done. She gave the signal to rise, and smilingly told Captain Desfrayne he should have half an hour’s grace to smoke a cigar if he pleased. The ladies adjourned to the white drawing-room, where a soft glitter of wax tapers shed a pleasant, mellow light. Squire Dormer had arranged to come for his wife and daughter at eight or nine o’clock. When the storm broke, Mrs. Dormer had feared she might be obliged to stay all night, but now the sky had cleared, the sultry heat already nearly dried up the pools of water lying on the garden-walks, and the silver moon had risen in royal splendor. Blanche flew to the piano--a superb instrument as far as appearance went, but it was very decidedly out of tune. There was no music anywhere visible, but Miss Dormer sat down and began playing morsels and snatches of melody from recollection. Then she asked Lois to sing. Lois had always been accustomed to so implicitly obey the wishes of those about her, that she did not think of refusing, but took Blanche’s seat and ran her fingers skilfully over the keys. “I don’t feel very well,” she mildly protested. “But I will do my best.” “Don’t overexert yourself, my love,” said Lady Quaintree. “I should be delighted to hear you,” Mrs. Dormer remarked, almost at the same moment. Captain Desfrayne heard the chords of the piano from his solitary retreat, and, being passionately fond of music, he came out on the terrace and moved into the leafy shadow, from whence he could view the interior of the drawing-room without being himself seen.