"It will not be a dream much longer or I am greatly mistaken," she said. "Mary loves that man. I know by the way she speaks of him. And Connie Colam has told me. I don't want to be inquisitive, Lady Dashwood, but I should like to hear the story of that romance. Connie says that I should hardly know Mary if I had met her on the first day in London. She was hard and proud and distant, and she deliberately allowed the ice to grow round her heart; she was eaten up with family pride. And she learned her lesson in two days. I could see her change, as a butterfly newly out changes in the sun. I dare say you may call that a ridiculous simile, but I can't think of a better. And when Connie spoke to her of love and the advantages of love over everything else she came to guess. I am sure that Ralph Darnley has told her that he cares for her." "That is so," Lady Dashwood smiled. "He is a very masterful young man, as I told you before. And I fancy he told Mary that he would win her in spite of everything. He has taken his own way of doing it, as you may hear some day. But if all you say is true, I am not going to spoil Mary's pleasure in the telling of her pretty love story. So you think that Mary ought to know what has happened? You think that if we send her a telegram she will come down here at once?" "I am certain of it," Grace cried. "She will be displeased with us that we had forgotten. It is all going to come right, Lady Dashwood. Your dream is coming true, and Mary will be a happy girl yet." Lady Dashwood smiled as she reached for the telegram forms. She wondered if it would be possible for Mary to reach the dower house that night. Presently a cab crept along the drive; no doubt it was the doctor coming to call once more. Then Grace gave a cry of pleasure as the cab door opened and a slender figure in black jumped out. "She is here, Lady Dashwood," the girl exclaimed. "Mary! She must have heard. These things find their way into London evening papers directly." The door of the dining-room opened and Mary came in. She was pale and agitated; she had her hand to her heart. It was some time before she could speak. She glanced from one to the other, as if not daring to ask what was trembling on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes filled with relief as she noted the welcome on the faces of the others. "He is better?" she gasped. "He is not dead. I--I was afraid to ask. Oh, if you only knew the gnawing agony of the last hour! I saw it in one of the evening papers. I flew down here as soon as possible. And how is he--how is Ralph?" Deeply touched as she was, Lady Dashwood smiled. She was glad to hear Ralph's name come so naturally off Mary's tongue. It showed that she thought of him by his Christian name. "He is much better," she said. "The doctor gives a very good report. And he is not in the least likely to die this time."