was tired in my life, and I am ready for the ball to-night, and a
steeple-chase to-morrow."

She tripped off as she spoke, with a mischievous glance. She wanted to
shock him, and she succeeded.

"Poor girl!" he thought, as he slowly turned homeward, "she is really
dreadful. She never had a mother, I suppose, and wandering over the
world with her father has made her a perfect savage. She is truly to
be pitied--so exceedingly beautiful as she is, too!"

Sir Everard certainly was very sorry for that hoidenish Miss Hunsden.
He thought of her while dressing for dinner, and he talked of her all
through that meal "more in sorrow than in anger."

Sybilla Silver, quite like one of the family already, listened with
greedy ears and eager black eyes.

"You ought to call, mother," the baronet said, "you and Mildred.
Common politeness requires it, Captain Hunsden was my father's most
intimate friend, and this wild girl stands sadly in need of some
matronly adviser."

"I remember Captain Hunsden," Lady Kingsland said, thoughtfully, "and I
remember this girl, too, when she was a child of three or four years.
He was a very handsome man, I recollect, and he married away in Canada
or the United States. There was some mystery about that
marriage--something vague and unpleasant--no one knew what. She ought
to be pretty, this daughter."