The fete had been brought about by the two fair cousins as a farewell treat to the last of their present guests, who were departing--Ruby Logan, Stratherroch, and--Mr. Holcroft! Greatly to Eveline's relief, Sir Paget was gone, but, as if to worry her further, Sir Paget left for her--with Lady Aberfeldie--a letter referring to his admiration and regard for her since the last season in London, and with it a handsome diamond necklet--the sight of which in its fragrant Russian-leather case she loathed--with the hope that she would accept and wear it, in token that she was holding out brilliant hopes to him when 'they met in town again.' Eveline flatly declined to accept and wear the jewellery, so, to her intense annoyance, it remained as yet in her mother's hands. She was 'biding her time.' The wealthy suitor had attained a battered middle-age, while Eveline was still in the glory of her youth. True, but he had both wealth and rank to offer, for though she was an 'Honourable Miss,' he was a baronet, and so far as his love went, if it came late in life, it was, nevertheless, a kind of overmastering passion. The new emotions of her heart caused Eveline to reflect more than perhaps she had ever done before. It seemed but yesterday since she and Olive conned their tasks and practised their scales together under the eyes of a governess; since they had gathered bouquets of wild flowers from the clefts of the rocks of Dundargue, and made fairy caps of rushes and harebells by the burnside; happy children both; but how miserable she was now that she was on the verge of womanhood, and had learned to love and to hate; for she loved Evan Cameron, and hated--yes, and she blushed as she admitted it to herself--she did hate that smiling and rubicund old interloper, Sir Paget. 'And you will not wear the necklet?' said Lady Aberfeldie, for the last time. 'Do please to excuse me, dearest mamma--I cannot--yet a while.' Lady Aberfeldie was pleased by the half obedience these words implied. 'What ornaments will you wear then?' she asked. 'You have so many to choose from.' 'Let me wear the lovely diamond necklace that lies in the strong casket in your room, mamma.' Lady Aberfeldie's calm, patrician face darkened. 'I would rather you wore no diamonds at all, child; and these I never wear myself.' 'But why, mamma?' 'Because that necklace always brings evil to whoever wears it.' 'So I have heard. But it is a silly superstition, and they are such lovely stones! But what is the story of them?' 'The wife of a cavalier who died with Montrose on the scaffold of Edinburgh gave them to an ancestor of ours to save his life. This was the first viscount, who was a zealous Covenanter, and the bosom friend of Lord Warriston. He certainly took the jewels from the poor sorrowing wife----' 'And the cavalier?' 'Was beheaded by the Maiden at the market-cross, and a kind of curse seems to have attended these diamonds ever since.' 'A cruel story.'