But even to her own heart, Lady Vera will not own that her great vexation is directed against herself because she has blushed vividly crimson under that one look from Captain Lockhart's blue eyes, while her heart has beat so strangely--with annoyance, she thinks. "I foresee that I shall hate this American soldier," she muses, "and no wonder at all when I shall be forced to see him every day. I wish now that we had not accepted Lady Clive's invitation for the London season." CHAPTER XI. The day after Lady Ford's ball dawns cheerlessly. It is cool, and the air is full of floating mists. The gentlemen determine to go out anyhow. The ladies elect to remain at home. The glowing fire in the library has more charms than the bleak, spring air. "I am not surprised at Nella," says Captain Lockhart, leisurely buttoning his overcoat. "_She_ was raised in America, and our ladies do not walk much. But I have been told that English ladies walk every morning, whether rain or shine. Are you false to the tradition, Lady Vera?" The color flies into her cheek at his quizzical glance, but she will not tell him what she sees he does not know--that she has been raised in America, too. "I suppose so," she says, a little shortly, in answer to his question. "Suppose you come with us for a turn around the square, my dear?" suggests the earl. "So I will," answers Lady Vera, determined to have Captain Lockhart see that she is quite English in her habits. She comes down in a moment covered almost to the pink tips of her ears in rich velvet. To her dismay Earl Fairvale strolls forward in a fit of absent-mindedness with Sir Harry, leaving her to be accompanied by the American soldier. She sees no other course but to accept the situation. "It is only for a few minutes at the worst," she thinks to herself. So she walks on by his side, looking so pretty with the nipping wind kissing her cheeks into a scarlet glow, that Captain Lockhart can scarcely keep the admiration out of his eyes. "The loveliest girl I have ever seen in my life," he mentally decides. "But, by Jove! as cold and proud as an iceberg!" "So you do not like Americans?" he says to her, regretfully, as they turn a corner. "No," curtly. "Ah, but, Lady Vera, is that fair?" plaintively. "You do not know us, yet you condemn us without a hearing. Mere English prejudice--is it not?" She looks around at the handsome face, full of fire and life, and the sparkling blue eyes. The thoughtful gravity on the lovely face grows deeper. The dark eyes flash. "Captain Lockhart, you are talking of what you do not understand," she says, impatiently. "I beg your pardon, Lady Vera," he answers, flushing, "I spoke from the merest impulse. I thought--since you are so very young--you could not know my country well."