"I was," she admits, "but I had no need to be. My mother was one of the fairest, sweetest, and purest of America's daughters. Yet I had a prejudice against the people of her native land and mine, a girl's prejudice that made me unjust to the many because I hated a few. Some day I will tell you about my life in America, Lady Clive, and you will understand me better, perhaps." "Shall you go back to the United States with Phil, or shall you prefer a life in England?" Lady Clive inquires. "We have not settled that yet," the young girl answers, blushing. Her face has grown very thoughtful as she speaks. A moment later she asks, in an altered voice: "Who were those American people whom you met in Switzerland, Lady Clive?" Lady Clive seemed to reflect. "You mean those vulgarly rich people?" she inquires. "Yes." "My dear, I have quite forgotten what they were called. I have such a poor memory for names. But no matter. You will see them in London this winter," Lady Clive replies. And again the vexing question which she has forgotten since yesterday, recurs to Lady Vera's mind: "What form will my vengeance take?" But no faintest idea comes to her of the terrible truth. If anyone were to whisper it to her in these first hours of her great new happiness, it would surely strike her dead. The shock of pain would be too great for endurance. But fate withholds the blow as yet, and some golden days of peace and happiness dawn for Lady Vera. With Lady Clive's arrival she inaugurates a little reign of gaiety that rejoices the heart of Mrs. Vance. She gives and receives invitations. Colonel Lockhart rides over daily to spend long hours by his lady's side, reading, singing, talking to each other in the low, sweet tones of lovers. Lord Gordon consoles himself with Miss Montgomery, who secretly confides to him that she "cannot imagine what Colonel Lockhart sees in that haughty Lady Fairvale." "She is beautiful," Lord Gordon answers, loyal to his old love yet. "I do not admire her style. She is too slim--too American in her looks," Miss Montgomery rejoins. She is inclined to _embonpoint_ herself, and envies every slender woman she sees. Lord Gordon does not dispute her charge. He is too wise for that. But in his heart he wonders why Lady Vera had reconsidered her rejection of his friend, and wishes that he had been the happy man blest by her preference. Lady Vera, on her part, has quite forgotten the coquette's existence in her serene, new happiness. Philip is her love, her lord, her king. She forgets all else save him who holds her heart. The light comes back to her eyes, the roundness and color to her cheek. She is dazzlingly lovely in the new beauty that love brings to her face.