"She is ill and desperate," Colonel Lockhart tells himself, uneasily. "Surely things cannot be so bad as she represents. She exaggerates her trouble. When I come to know the truth I shall find that it is some simple thing that her girlish fears have magnified a hundredfold. I must not let her drive me away from her. I may be of service to her in her trouble." Aloud he says, gently: "Since I may no longer be your lover, Vera, you will let me be your friend?" "Since you wish it, but you will change your mind soon," she answers, hopelessly. "I think not," he answers, lifting her hand gently to his lips, and then she turns away, meeting Lady Clive upon the threshold coming in. "Vera, my dear, how ill you look," she exclaims. "Has anything happened? Ah, Phil, are you there? What have you said to Vera? You are not having a lover's quarrel, I hope?" He makes her no answer, but Vera, turning back, throws her arms around her friend's neck, and lifts her pale, beseeching face. "I will tell you what has happened, Lady Clive," she answers. "I have broken my engagement with Philip." "Broken your engagement with Philip? Why, what has he done?" Lady Clive exclaims. "Nothing," Lady Vera answers, meekly as a child. "Nothing?" the lady repeats, half-angrily. "Nothing? Then why have you thrown him over, Lady Vera? Did you tire of him so soon? I did not know that you were a flirt." "Hush, Nella, you shall not blame her," her brother exclaims, sternly. "You see Philip is not angry with me, Lady Clive," Vera says, entreatingly. "Indeed I am not a flirt. I love him dearly, but I cannot be his wife. There are reasons," she almost chokes over the word, "that--that you will know soon. You will see I was not to blame. Oh, Lady Clive, do not be angry with me." "I will not, dear," answers the gentle-hearted lady, kissing the sweet, quivering lips of the wretched girl. "I do not understand you, but if Philip is not angry with you, neither can I be. Yet I am very sorry that I shall not have you for my sister." With a stifled sob Lady Vera breaks from her clasp and flies up to her own room. She does not appear at breakfast. At luncheon she is so pale and sad and wretched-looking that it makes one's heart ache to see her. At night they attend a ball, from which Colonel Lockhart excuses himself on the plea of indisposition, and at which the rich Americans also fail to put in an appearance. CHAPTER XXIV. The invitations for Mrs. Vernon's lawn-party had been issued at least a fortnight, and but few people had declined them.