the last."

"The rector," replied Clara, "was called out of town at six o'clock this
evening, to visit a dying man, and so cannot be here. You are the last,
Tom, and Mr. Ellis was the first."

Ellis was ruefully aware that this comparison in his favor was the only
visible advantage that he had gained from his early arrival. He had not
seen Miss Pemberton a moment sooner by reason of it. There had been a
certain satisfaction in being in the same house with her, but Delamere
had arrived in time to share or, more correctly, to monopolize, the
sunshine of her presence.

Delamere gave a plausible excuse which won Clara's pardon and another
enchanting smile, which pierced Ellis like a dagger. He knew very well
that Delamere's excuse was a lie. Ellis himself had been ready as early
as six o'clock, but judging this to be too early, had stopped in at the
Clarendon Club for half an hour, to look over the magazines. While
coming out he had glanced into the card-room, where he had seen his
rival deep in a game of cards, from which Delamere had evidently not
been able to tear himself until the last moment. He had accounted for
his lateness by a story quite inconsistent with these facts.

The two young people walked over to a window on the opposite side of
the large room, where they stood talking to one another in low tones.
The major had left the room for a moment. Old Mr. Delamere, who was
watching his grandson and Clara with an indulgent smile, proceeded to
rub salt into Ellis's wounds.

"They make a handsome couple," he observed. "I remember well when her