Life of late had looked brighter to her than at any previous time since her marriage. Percy had recently become engaged to a beautiful girl—one in every way worthy of him, and who, when she became his wife, would bring with her a noble dower; indeed, her father was so much pleased with his prospective son-in-law that he had himself proposed to relieve Linton Grange of all incumbrances, and thus all the burden entailed by his father’s profligacy would be lifted from the young lord’s shoulders. Lillian’s _début_ in society had been very brilliant; she was greatly admired and much sought after; so the mother’s cup of pride and joy in her children seemed to be full to the brim. The only bitter drop in it was Lillian’s unrequited affection for Rupert, and Lady Linton had never relinquished the hope of succeeding in accomplishing even this marriage until after the young man’s return from America. He had seemed very different since then; restless and preoccupied, but betraying at the same time an undercurrent of joy which told of some sweet hope cherished in his heart, the fulfillment of which he was eagerly awaiting. His treatment of Lillian was courteous and respectful, but not calculated to inspire anyone with the belief that he regarded her with feelings of more than ordinary friendship, and thus Lady Linton had begun to fear that her favorite and his magnificent fortune were likely to slip from her grasp and become the prey of some more fortunate beauty and belle. She had not, however, had a suspicion of _who_ was to be the favored maiden, until she came so suddenly upon that group in the Japanese parlor, when she had taken in at a glance the mortifying and exasperating truth, and immediately she was wrought almost into a frenzy between anger and fear, and ready to adopt the most daring measures to protect herself from exposure. But to return to the Japanese parlor. Lady Linton arose as she replied to her brother’s questions, and signified her readiness to leave immediately. “Wait a moment here,” he said, “while I go to make our excuses to Lady Dunforth and tell Lillian that we are going.” “No—oh, do not leave me, William!” pleaded Lady Linton, growing frightfully pale again and trembling visibly; she would not trust him one moment in that drawing-room, lest he should meet Virginia Alexander. “I am afraid I shall have another fainting turn. Let Rupert see her ladyship. Will you?” she asked, turning to him. “Certainly,” he answered, readily. “Thank you. And now, William, if you will please ring for a servant to bring my wraps here. I do not feel equal to the effort of going for them.” Sir William did as she requested, wondering to see her so unnerved. Nothing had ever seemed to unsettle her like this before. “And, Rupert,” she continued, “won’t you be so good as to look after Lillian for the rest of the evening, and see that she gets home safely?”