Mrs. Fitzherbert looked at him quickly and wondered if his memory was as bad as he pretended. She did not feel it necessary to recall exactly how many years it was since first they met, but she was a girl then, and Theodore the handsomest man she had ever seen. Her maiden fancy was speedily captured, and for a season they danced together, philandered, and sauntered in the park. Unwisely, she took him with all seriousness. She remembered still a certain afternoon in July when they met in Kensington Gardens; the sunshine and the careful trees, the dainty flowers, gave the scene all the graceful elegance of a picture by the adorable Watteau. She was going into the country next day, and her young heart beat in the most romantic fashion because she thought Theodore would seize the opportunity to declare his passion. But instead, he asked if she could keep a secret, and told her he had just become engaged to Dorothy Frampstone. She had not forgotten the smile with which she congratulated him and the lightness wherewith she hid the terrible anguish that consumed her. For six weeks she saw the world through a mist of tears, but pride forbade her to refuse Dorothy’s invitation to be bridesmaid at the wedding, and here she met Captain Fitzherbert. He fell in love with her at first sight and she married him out of pique, only to discover that he was a perfectly charming fellow. She soon grew devoted to him and never ceased to thank Heaven for her escape from Theodore. The only emotion that touched her then was curiosity. She would have given much to learn the reason of his behaviour. But she never knew whether the handsome curate had really cared, and thrown her over only because a more eligible bride presented herself; or whether, blinded by her own devotion, she had mistaken for love attentions which were due merely to a vivacious temperament. She did not meet Theodore Spratte again till she had been for some time a widow. Captain Fitzherbert was stationed in various parts of the world, and his wife came rarely to England. Then he fell ill, and for several years she nursed him on the Riviera and in Italy. But when at last his death released her, Mrs. Fitzherbert sought to regain her calmness of mind after the long exhaustion of his illness, by distant journeys to those places where she had spent her happy married life. It was not till she took a house in London, three years before this, that she ran against Canon Spratte casually at a dinner-party. She was pleased to see him, but noted with amusement that the sight did not agitate her in the smallest degree. She could scarcely believe that once his appearance in a room sufficed to make her pulse beat at double its normal rate, while the touch of his hand sent the blood rushing to her cheeks.