No; Mrs. Romer was a clever, well-intentioned little woman. She had meant to give him a hint in all kindness, and he would not be slow to take it. What she had meant to say was, "Take her yourself quickly, or some one else will take her from you." And Sir John said to himself that he would so take her, and that as quickly as possible. Standing talking to her younger son, later on that evening, Lady Kynaston said to him, suddenly, "Why does Vera wear peacock's feathers?" "Why should she not?" "They are bad luck." Maurice laughed. "I never knew you to be superstitious before, mother." "I am not so really; but from choice I would avoid anything that bears an unlucky interpretation. I saw her with you in the conservatory as I came downstairs." Maurice turned suddenly red. "Did you?" he asked, a little anxiously. "Yes. I did not know it was her, of course. I did not see her face, only her dress, and I noticed that it was trimmed with peacock's feathers; that was what made me recognize her afterwards." "That was bad luck, at all events," said Maurice, almost involuntarily. "Why?" asked Lady Kynaston, looking up at him sharply. But Maurice would not tell her why. Lady Kynaston asked no more questions; but she pondered, and she watched. Captain Kynaston did not dance again with Vera that night, and he did dance several times with Mrs. Romer; it did not escape her notice, however, that he seemed absent and abstracted, and that his face bore its hardest and sternest aspect throughout the remainder of the evening. So the ball at Shadonake came to an end, as balls do, with the first gleams of daylight; and nothing was left of all the gay crowd who had so lately filled the brilliant rooms but several sleepy people creeping up slowly to bed, and a great _chiffonade_ of tattered laces, and flowers, and coloured scraps littered all over the polished floor of the ball-room. CHAPTER XIV. HER WEDDING DRESS. Those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings, Blank misgivings-- High instincts before which our moral nature Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised. Wordsworth. "Vera, are you not coming to look at it?" "Presently." "It is all laid out on your bed, and you ought to try it on; it might want alterations." "Oh, there is plenty of time!" "It is downright affectation!" says old Mrs. Daintree, angrily, to her daughter-in-law, as she and Marion leave the room together; "no girl can really be indifferent to a wedding dress covered with yards of lovely Brussels lace flounces; she ought to be ashamed of herself for her ingratitude to Lady Kynaston for such a present; she must really want to see it, only she likes playing the fine lady beforehand!" "I don't think it is that," says Marion, gently; "I don't believe Vera is well." "Fiddlesticks!" snorts her mother-in-law. "A woman who is going to marry ten thousand a year within ten days is bound to be well."