Miss L'Estrange was standing alone in the small conservatory on the morning following her eventful conversation with Lord Arleigh, when the latter was announced.

How she had passed the hours of the previous night was known only to herself.

As the world looks the fairer and fresher for the passing of a heavy storm, the sky more blue, the color of flowers and trees brighter so she on this morning, after those long hours of agony, looked more beautiful than ever.

Her white morning dress, made of choice Indian muslin, was relieved by faint touches of pink; fine white lace encircled her throat and delicate wrists.

Tall and slender, she stood before a large plant with scarlet blossoms when he came in.
Lord Arleigh looked as he felt--ill at ease.