“But I was not daydreaming—quite the contrary,” she returned. “I was thinking about something which was told me a few minutes ago—something the like of which I had never imagined.” Then, with a low sigh, she added: “Day-dreams and I have parted company for a long, long time to come, maybe for ever.” “What wicked words are those from one who is in love and engaged to be married! Fie upon you, child!” “But I am not in love, indeed I am not, Tamsin! Nor have I ever been; I only fancied I was; but my eyes have been opened. And I am no longer engaged to be married.” “Sakes alive! dearie! What has happened?” “A great deal has happened—much that seems almost too incredible for belief. All is over between Mr. Keymer and me. I have heard that about him to-day which at once puts an end to our engagement—and I have already written to tell him so.” “Now, Heaven be praised for that!” ejaculated Tamsin fervently. “You know I never liked him, and that I mistrusted him from the first moment I set eyes on him. Glad I am that all is over between you! It was not my place to speak when I knew you had given him your promise, but times and again I said sadly to myself, ‘Surely, surely my rosebud was never intended for such a man as Mr. Launce Keymer!’ Not once, but twenty times have I prayed on my bended knees that something might happen to stop your marriage. And now you tell me that my prayer has been answered. Oh, child, child! not for years has my old heart been gladdened as you have gladdened it this day.” Next moment Ethel’s arms were round Tamsin’s neck, and she was crying softly on her shoulder. Her full heart could hold no more. CHAPTER XXIV. TAMSIN SPEAKS HER MIND And so the days and weeks went by, and by general consent Launce Keymer’s name was never mentioned at Rose Mount. It was not owing to any lack of invitations that Ethel scarcely went anywhere that summer, but simply because of late she had lost all desire to do so. It is true that the Lovibonds and the Delaports and one or two other families at whose houses she had heretofore been a welcome visitor, nowadays saw fit to omit her name from the lists of those invited to their garden-parties and other festivities, but the major part of her friends were guilty of no such forgetfulness. To them her changed fortunes (for she could no longer be regarded as the heiress she once had been) made no apparent difference, and it was entirely her own fault that they saw so little of her.