I raised the velvet obediently, and the gentleman called Tom came softly behind me and took the ends from my trembling fingers, and fastened them himself round my throat again. He first pretended that he had not got them straight, though, and held the velvet a little way from me to try to look at the back of the pendant. But I was prepared for that; and I put my hand round it, as if fearing it might fall, and would not let him see the initials. After this first experience of the sensation caused by my one ornament, I watched rather curiously its effect upon the rest of the party, as some of them strolled into the conservatory, and when I met the others in the drawing-room and in the general gathering at dinner. Every one looked at me, the one stranger, a good deal, of course; but I noticed that, while my pendant attracted the attention of the ladies, the gentlemen looked more at me myself, and were not scandalized by my unlucky ornament. Sir Jonas, who was a kind, gray-haired gentleman, and looked nearly old enough to be Lady Mills’s father, took me in to dinner; and, although he did not talk much, he encouraged me to chatter to him, and to tell him all about the school-treat, and tried to make me drink a great deal more wine than I wanted. After dinner, when I was in the drawing-room with the ladies, some of them drew me on to a sofa and pulled me about and petted me just as if I had been a child, and asked me a number of questions about my life at the Alders and “that handsome Mr. Rayner.” “And is it true that he is such a dreadfully wicked man, Miss Christie?” said one. “Yes, it is; she is blushing,” said another. But I was not blushing at all; there was nothing to blush about. I said, laughing-- “No, he is not wicked. The village-people think he is, because he plays the violin and goes to races. He is very kind.” “Oh, we don’t doubt that, my dear!” said Mrs. Clowes, in a demure tone. “You think I like him only just because he is kind to me,” said I boldly. “But I shouldn’t like him if he were wicked, however kind he might be.” “And Mrs. Rayner--is she kind and good too?” “Oh, yes, she is just as kind!” said I. This was not quite true; but I knew already enough of these people to be sure they would laugh if I said “No;” and it was not poor Mrs. Rayner’s fault that she was not as nice as her husband. Presently Mrs. Cunningham took me to the other end of the room to look at a portrait of Lady Mills. “It is no business of mine who gave you that pendant, my dear; but have you any more ornaments of the kind, and, if so, where do you keep them?” she said gravely. “Oh, I have no more!” I answered, a little surprised at her manner. “And I keep this in an old case in the corner of my desk.”