Both had felt a kind of affection for the homely farmer and his wife--they sent many presents to them--but Beatrice would curl her proud lip in scorn when she read aloud that "Mr.And Mrs.Thorne desired their humble duty to Lady Earle." Lady Earle felt no anxiety about her son's return; looking at his daughters, she saw no fault in them.

Beautiful, accomplished, and graceful, what more could he desire?
She inwardly thanked Providence that neither of them bore the least resemblance to the Thornes.
Beatrice looked like one of the Ladies Earle just stepped out from a picture; Lillian, in her fair, dove-like loveliness, was quite as charming.

What would Lady Earle--so truthful, so honorable--have thought or said had she known that their bright favorite with the Earle face had plighted her troth, unknown to any one, to the captain of a trading vessel, who was to claim her in two years for his wife?
Lady Earl had formed her own plans for Beatrice; she hoped the time would come when she would be Lady Earle of Earlescourt.

Nothing could be more delightful, nothing easier, provided Beatrice would marry the young heir, Lionel Dacre.
One morning, as the sisters sat in Lillian's room, Lady Earle entered with an unusual expression of emotion on her fair, high-bred face.

She held an open letter in her hand.
"My dear children," she said, "you must each look your very best this evening.