Lady Helen came and whispered something to Lord Hawtrey. The result of this was that he took me in to dinner. He talked charmingly during the meal. He took no notice of the fact that I was a little distraite--that my heart was very low within me. Whether he guessed any of my thoughts or not I can never tell, but he certainly did his best to restore my flagging spirits. By and by, when he saw that the kindest thing was to leave me alone, he devoted himself to the rest of the party, and soon had my father in roars of laughter over his good stories. At last, the weary dinner came to an end. The smell of the roses was so strong that I felt almost faint. My head was aching. What could be the matter with me? I began, however, to centre my thoughts on one bright beacon star of hope. I should meet Captain Carbury at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning in the Park. Lady Helen gave the signal, and we went into the drawing-room; there she said, eagerly: "My child, you look pale. Are you tired?" "No," I answered; "I am not the least tired." But then I added, rather petulantly, "I have too many flowers on my dress; the smell of the roses in these hot rooms makes me almost faint. May I not take some of them off?" "By no means," she answered, and she stepped back a few paces and looked at me attentively. "Really, Heather," she said, "you are, I believe, intended by Providence to look pale; that pallor in your cheeks, joined to the darkness of your big eyes, gives you a wonderfully interesting, almost spiritual, look." "If you but knew," I answered, "how very, very little I care for how I look!" I said these words defiantly. I was certain she would scold me for uttering them. She paused, however, as though she were listening, then she said: "In future, my dear child, you may look as you like, and act as you like; for the present, just please me. Reward me for my good services to you by being my good little Heather on this one evening." I was surprised at her words, and at the sort of affectionate admiration in her manner. She made me sit next to her on the sofa. "You are not a bit fit to go to the theatre," she said. "I shall go with Frank Dolby; nothing will induce him to miss a play." "And father?" I remarked. "I doubt if your father will care to go, Heather; he'll probably amuse himself in the smoking-room." "He and Lord Hawtrey together in the smoking-room," I answered. "I did not say that." She smiled, glanced at me, and looked away. "Lie back on the sofa and rest, dear," she said. Voices were heard in the hall; she bustled out of the room; I wondered at her manner. But I was really tired now--she was right about that; my head ached; I was suffering from cruel disappointment. The day had been most exciting, the day had been brimful of hope, and now night brought disappointment. People were talking eagerly in the hall. I felt indifferent. Then there was silence. The next minute the drawing-room door was opened, and my father came in.