“Thanks for your compliment. You are very candid, I am sure,” he replied gaily. “You tempt me to go upon the stage. I might get an engagement in ‘Faust.’” “Yes, if you could act the part as well as you looked it just now,” she replied spiritedly. Suddenly Percy Seabright’s smile faded, and he assumed a repentant air. “A truce to jesting,” he exclaimed. “My little friend, you are rather hard on me, I think. I assure you that ridicule of each other is current coin in society, and that it holds no real malice, only simple pleasantry. Mrs. Dunn, whose part you so nobly take, doubtless makes fun of me to her intimates, and I am positively certain that her ma detests me. So let us forget this little episode, and permit me to remind you that your noble father loved and trusted me to the hour of his death, so that you ought to consider his judgment equal to your own.” It was his trump-card, and he played it skilfully. The cold lines of her lovely face softened insensibly, and he looked up with a flickering smile. “If I have been too harsh you must pardon me,” she said. “I am but little versed in the ways of society. My mother’s gentle teachings and my own instincts are the only guides I have had to what is right and just.” At the mention of her mother’s name he turned aside his head to hide a frown of sullen anger, and did not look back at her until he had summoned an artificial smile. “I am sure that these guides have been the most correct ones, Miss Vale; better, far better than the hollow teachings of society,” he exclaimed. “In future I will try to restrain those faults that arise only from a thoughtless levity, not from a vicious mind, and perhaps I may better deserve the boon of your sweet friendship.” With a graceful gesture he lifted her small hand and pressed his lips upon it, then let it fall, with a deep sigh. He was, in fact, dropping suddenly, as was his wont, from levity into a mood of profound melancholy. Italy took it for sincere repentance, and softened toward him more and more. Somewhat embarrassed by remembering the impulsive lecture she had given him, she dropped her eyes to the pages of her book and was cursorily reading when he said gently: “Now that we are good friends again, let us return to the subject on which we were interrupted in August, and to resume which I came here this morning.” “Yes,” she answered eagerly, her eyes bright with interest. He continued, low and earnestly: “You asked me to help you to find a clue to your father’s murderer that the stain of unmerited disgrace might be washed from your mother’s name.” “Yes, oh, yes,” breathed the eager young girl.