of small talk, while Rayel sat listening. The dinner was
nearly over when the climax came which I had already begun
to fear.

"It is strange," said Rayel thoughtfully. "You speak what is
not true, Miss Paddington. You said that the Prince of Wales
gave you the beautiful opal, but tell me--was it not your
father who gave it you?"

He waited a moment for her answer.

"Oh, I understand now," he continued. "People do not always
speak the truth--do they?"

The young lady turned red with embarrassment, while an
unnatural smile played upon her lips.

"But--but what is the use of talking then?" he asked. No one
seemed disposed to answer.

"It is strange," he continued, with childlike naivete,
turning to the young lady sitting at his left, "you have
been laughing as if you were very happy, but you have felt
more like weeping. This must be a very sad world!" He ceased
speaking as if some suspicion of the pain his words were
causing had suddenly come to him.

The whole company turned its eyes upon the two. The young
lady's face became suddenly pale and almost horror-stricken.
Rayel's words were spoken in such a gentle and sympathetic