compression of her lips that might have told any one to beware. Lady
Thesiger became her own natural self after Coralie's departure; she
talked so kindly to Clare that I could have kissed her hand in
gratitude.

I took Miss Thesiger to show her my sister's flowers; for no word of
mine would those lovely eyes look up. She was not shy; her grace of
manner was too perfect for that, but she was evidently afraid to look at
me, and I reproached myself that I had perhaps frightened her at first.

Patiently I showed her flower after flower, perfect bud and perfect
blossom, the little white doves I had tamed, the birds of bright plumage
I had bought to amuse my sister. I showed her the little fountains that
rippled all day, the rocks and ferns. She admired everything.

"Your sister must be happy in spite of her illness," she said to me.

But I could bear those drooping eyes no longer.

"Miss Thesiger," I said, hurriedly, "do not be unkind to me. I know I am
very presumptuous, but do, pray do, give me one kind look before you
go."

Then she raised her eyes and looked at me. Alas! my tell-tale face. They
fell again, and the crimson flush mounted to her white brow. I could say
no more to her after that. She went to her mother's side, and they
talked to Clare until it was time for lunch.

I asked if they would remain and take lunch with my sister. They
consented, and when it was arranged I sent to ask Coralie if she would