When Hyacinth woke next morning, it was with difficulty that she disentangled dreams and truth; then the whole of her untold joys rushed over her, and she knew it was no fancy--no dream. She went down to breakfast looking, if possible, more beautiful than she had ever looked; the love-light on her face made it radiant; her eyes were bright as stars. Lady Vaughan gazed at her, as she had often done before, in sheer wonder. During breakfast she heard Sir Arthur complaining of his papers. "I am told they will not come until night," he said. "I really do not see how I am to get through the day without my papers." "What is the cause of the delay?" asked Lady Vaughan. "Some accident to the mail train. The company ought to be more careful." "Adrian will perhaps be able to do something to amuse you," said Lady Vaughan. "Adrian has gone out," returned Sir Arthur, in an injured tone of voice. "Some friends of his came to the hotel late last night, and he has gone out with them; he will not return till evening." "Who told you so?" asked Lady Vaughan. "He wrote this note," said Sir Arthur, "and sent it to me the first thing this morning." Then Hyacinth smiled to herself, for she knew the note was written for her. "We must get through the day as well as we can," said Lady Vaughan. Greatly to Sir Arthur's surprise, Hyacinth volunteered to spend the morning with him. "I can amuse you," she said--"not perhaps as well as Mr. Darcy, but I will do my best. We will go out into the grounds if you like; the band is going to play a selection from 'Il Flauto Magico.'" And Sir Arthur consented, inwardly wondering how sweet, gentle, and compliant his granddaughter was. Just before dinner a messenger came to the _salon_ to say that Mr. Darcy had returned, and, with Lady Vaughan's permission would spend the evening with them. "He will tell Lady Vaughan this evening," thought Hyacinth; "and then every one will know." She dressed herself with unusual care; it would be the first time of seeing him since she had promised to be his wife. Amongst her treasures was a dress of white lace, simple and elegant, somewhat elaborately trimmed with green leaves. Pincott came again, by Lady Vaughan's wish, to superintend the young lady's toilet. She looked curiously at the white lace dress. "Begging your pardon, Miss Vaughan," she said, "but I never saw a young lady so changed. I used to feel quite grieved when you were so careless about your dress." "I will try not to grieve you again," said the young girl, laughingly. "You must not wear either jewels or ribbons with this dress," observed Pincott. "There must be nothing but a simple cluster of green leaves." "It shall be just as you like," observed Miss Vaughan.