and faded. Don't be sentimental." So said Mrs. Gasgoyne to Lady Dargan,
as they saw Gaston coming down the ballroom with Captain Maudsley.

"Reine, you try one's patience. People would say you were not quite
disinterested."

"You mean Delia! Now, listen. I haven't any wish but that Gaston
Belward shall see Delia very seldom indeed. He will inherit the property
no doubt, and Sir William told me that he had settled a decent fortune on
him; but for Delia--no--no--no. Strange, isn't it, when Lady Harriet
over there aches for him, Indian blood and all? And why? Because this
is a good property, and the fellow is distinguished and romantic-looking:
but he is impossible--perfectly impossible. Every line of his face says
shipwreck."

"You are not usually so prophetic."

"Of course. But I am prophetic now, for Delia is more than interested,
silly chuck! Did you ever read the story of the other Gaston--Sir
Gaston--whom this one resembles? No? Well, you will find it thinly
disguised in The Knight of Five Joys. He was killed at Naseby, my dear;
killed, not by the enemy, but by a page in Rupert's cavalry. The page
was a woman! It's in this one too. Indian and French blood is a sad
tincture. He is not wicked at heart, not at all; but he will do mad
things yet, my dear. For he'll tire of all this, and then--half-mourning
for some one!"

Gaston enjoyed talking with Mrs. Gasgoyne as to no one else. Other women
often flattered him, she never did. Frankly, crisply, she told him
strange truths, and, without mercy, crumbled his wrong opinions. He had