‘Yes, I will,’ says Susan valiantly. She doesn’t, however. She hesitates, and is, as usual, lost. She tries and tries to take that little bag out of her pocket and give it to him, but her courage fails her. And presently Lady Forster carries her off, and now the Park is reached, and she finds herself in the lovely, sunny drawing-room, and after a while in the dining-room, and still that little fragrant bag lies perdu. Susan glances shyly round her. Sir William Forster, a tall young man with a kindly eye, takes her fancy at once, and there is a big girl over there and a big woman here (they must be mother and daughter), who make her wonder a great deal about their strange garments. Mrs. Prior is here, too, and Miss Prior—Mr. Wyndham’s people. And at the opposite side of the table Mr. Wyndham himself. Beside him sits the poet, a lachrymose young man with long hair and a crooked eye, and the name of Jones. No wonder he looks depressed! He has got his best eye fixed immovably on Susan, who seems to appeal even to his high ideal of beauty—and, indeed, throughout the day she suffers a good deal, off and on, from his unspoken, but quite open, adoration of her. Poets never admire: they adore. And for a simple country maiden this style is somewhat embarrassing. On Mr. Crosby’s right hand is sitting the tall and beautiful girl, with the pale roses near her throat, with whom he had driven home from church on Sunday. It seems all quite clear to Susan. Yes, this is the girl he is going to marry. But a girl so beautiful as that could make anyone happy. She had heard someone call her Lady Muriel. Rank and beauty and sweetness—all are for him. And surely he deserves them all; and that is why she is at his right hand. CHAPTER XXXIX. ‘Thou didst delight mine ear, Ah! little praise; thy voice Makes other hearts rejoice, Makes all ears glad that hear, And shout my joy. But yet, O song, do not forget.’ Susan is seated beside a very fashionably-dressed girl with an extremely good-humoured face, and Captain Lennox—a man of about thirty or thereabouts—who seems to find pleasure in an every two minutes’ contemplation of her young and charming face. In this, the good-humoured looking girl—Miss Forbes—is not a whit behind Captain Lennox, she too seeming to be delighted with Susan. And, indeed, everyone seems to have fallen in love with pretty Susan, for presently the stately young beauty sitting next to Crosby, who has come in a little late for luncheon, whispers something to him, and then looks smilingly at Susan. Crosby, in answer to her words, says quietly: ‘Susan—Lady Muriel Kennedy is very anxious to know you. Miss Barry, Lady Muriel.’