intoxication, of that first summer of her new life, memory of Walter grew dim in her heart. She thought of him but seldom, never of her own free will. Unconsciously she was learning a lesson which wealth and power so arrogantly strive to teach--to put away from her all unpleasant thoughts. Let us not blame her. She was very young, and experience has to lead the human heart by many tortuous ways to full understanding. So Gladys lived her happy, careless, girlish summer by the sea, enjoying it to the full. 'Tom,' said Mrs. Fordyce to her husband one afternoon, as they sat at the drawing-room window watching the young folks in the garden, 'do you think there is anything serious between Gladys and George Fordyce?' 'Eh, what? No, I don't think so.' 'Well, I do. Just look at them at this moment.' They were sauntering arm in arm on the path within the shadow of the garden wall, Gladys with a bunch of pink sea daisies in her hand, a pretty bit of colour against her white gown. There was a tint as delicate in the fair cheek under the big sun hat, brought there, perhaps, by some of her companion's words. His attitude and bearing were certainly lover-like, and his handsome head was bent rather nearer the big sun hat than Mrs. Fordyce altogether approved. 'Well, I must say, my dear, it looks rather like it, only I've heard the girls say that George is a great flirt.' 'He is, but I don't think it's flirting in this case,' said Mrs. Fordyce seriously. 'I am afraid we, or at least I, have been very indiscreet.' 'You wouldn't approve then, Isabel? George is a trifle vain and silly, but I never heard anything against his character.' 'I suppose not. We would be the last to hear any such rumours. But it isn't fair to the girl; she has not had a chance. Do you know what people will say of us, Tom? That we took her away down here and shut her up among ourselves for the very purpose of matchmaking. It is a blessing our Leonard is only a boy, but it is bad enough that it should be our nephew.' 'There's a good deal of truth in what you say, but the world must just wag its stupid tongue. If the thing is to be, we can't prevent it.' 'We can, we must. She is only a child, Tom. I feel quite convicted of my own sinful want of observation. I have been thinking of it all day, and my mind is made up, provided you, as her guardian, will give your consent. She must go abroad. Do you remember Henrietta Duncan, who married the French officer? She is living in Bruges now, taking a few English ladies into her house. Gladys must go there.' Mr. Fordyce looked at his wife in profound astonishment. He had not often heard her speak in such a very determined manner.