He was simple, she thought--no makings of a rake in him. Honest and brave he was, but no more to be compared with Rose. She kept her thoughts from the Earl, and fell to, somewhat desperately, considering his wife. Miss Lavinia Hilton, daughter of merchant, child of a parvenu, Countess of Lyndwood now--the wife of Rose! The thing was so monstrous that it must be taken without exclaim, naturally, or it became a horror unendurable, a wonder all credulity strained at. He, so fastidious, asking for wit as well as beauty, breed as well as grace, polish as well as youth--mated to a melancholy schoolgirl whose father had spent his life in the countinghouse! To Susannah this was a picture to be ignored, not even glanced at--to contemplate it was to behold the cruel elements of tragedy. Susannah dropped her skirt, closed her parasol, and looked at the two long-stemmed roses she carried, holding them up against the fading blue sky. A little further and she came into view of the house; its brick front was warmed by the universal glow of the setting sun. On the terrace in front bloomed peonies and Turks' caps, the stone vases held trailing masses of geraniums, scarlet amid their bright leaves. All was peaceful, stately, and beautiful. "What a home for her to come to!" thought Susannah. She went slowly to the front where the magnificent lawn, broken with one dark cedar-tree, reached to the fountains and the lake where the white swans glittered, and as she neared the wide steps, a coach and six, swinging on its leathers, came up the chestnut drive. It drew up with a scramble of the horses' hoofs on the gravel. The first thing to strike Miss Chressham was that this equipage was not belonging to the new Countess. She had seen it last year in London. Her second thought was that he could never have kept it but for the Hilton money. The postillions and footmen jumped down, but, quicker than they, Rose Lyndwood opened the door and sprang out. "Ah, Susannah!" he said. His voice had a note of relief; he pulled off his glove and offered her his hand. Miss Chressham glanced at his face, and her heart gave a sick swerve. "Where is my lady?" asked the Earl. Susannah forced herself. "In the house. I sent Marius to the gate; he must have missed you." Her eyes travelled anxiously to the coach door. My lord held it open and assisted a lady to alight. "This is Lavinia," he said. Susannah's first impression was that she was extremely young and quite pretty; her second that she did not know how to dress. "My cousin Susannah!" said the Earl. The Countess swept a nervous curtsey, and stared at Miss Chressham. Her plain purple coat and wide Leghorn hat, with black ribbons, had the effect not of elegance, but of insignificance. Susannah thought it ostentatious, too. "I am rejoiced to see you," said Miss Chressham; "but 'tis difficult to say so without a set speech, and I expect you are tired--may I call you Lavinia?"