And then she would nestle in her father's clasp, and stroke his dark whiskers with her dimpled white hands, and smile up at him with those dazzling dark-blue eyes in fondest affection, while he would answer that he wanted her to stay with him always, always, that it would break his heart if she ever married and went away. "You needn't be afraid, papa, for I will always love you best," she laughed, but Ethel heard these promises with secret pain. They made her feel sure that Precious still loved Lord Chester with a hopeless passion that would make her go unwedded to her grave. So the days fled fast, and very soon Lord Chester would arrive to bear away his dark-eyed bride. They would not await the conclusion of the lawsuit that still dragged wearily through the English courts. Ethel was anxious to prove the disinterestedness of her love. And in any case she would not be poor. Her father had promised her a magnificent dowry. The trousseau had arrived from Paris, and was all that a woman's heart could crave. Ethel thrilled with delight over the beautiful creations, fancying how fair they would make her appear in Arthur's eyes. Ah, surely, surely, she would win back his truant heart that for a little while had strayed from its allegiance. And Precious was so young, so much admired, she would soon forget, and console herself with another lover. These thoughts ran through her mind as she stood alone in her dressing-room, admiring the bridal veil as it lay upon a table for inspection. "She is so young she will soon forget," she repeated again, and just then some one entered the room and stood by her side. "Oh, Miss Ethel, how do you do? Norah said I might come right up and see you. She knew you wouldn't mind." It was Hetty Wilkins, the deposed maid; but the girl was a mere wreck of her former blooming self, her cheeks all wan, her eyes heavy as if with unshed tears, her clothing sloven. "Oh, Hetty, what have you been doing to yourself? You look ill, my poor girl." "Oh, Miss Ethel, I am ill--heart-sick, too. Oh, please forgive me for coming, but you said if I ever needed help--and so I came." "And quite right, Hetty," cried Ethel, dragging out her purse. She selected a ten-dollar gold piece, and held it out, saying generously: "I have more if that is not enough, Hetty." Hetty looked at the gold piece, but she did not offer to take it, and when Ethel doubled it with another piece she shook her head and whimpered reproachfully: "It is too little; you must pay me more than that for keeping your dangerous secret! You were with your sister, miss, at the fortune-teller's when the fire broke out in the house. How was it you escaped and left her there? Why have you and she always kept the secret of your presence there--tell me that?" The Parthian shaft told on Ethel. She recoiled with a gasp of terror from her accuser, and before she could speak Hetty followed up the advantage by adding: