colour of burnished brass, and fell to her knees in one straight heavy
coil without a wave.

"You remind me of some Saxon Edith I have seen in a picture," said Mrs.
Orton Beg, looking at her admiringly. "But, dear child," her mother
deprecated, "should you make a dressing room of the drawing room?"

"I know Mrs. Orton Beg will pardon me," said Edith, rolling her hair up
deftly and neatly as she spoke, with the air of a privileged person quite
at home.

Mrs. Orton Beg smiled at her affectionately; but before she could speak
the door opened once more, and the servant announced: "Lord Dawne."

And there entered a grave, distinguished looking man between thirty and
forty years of age, apparently, with black hair, and deep blue eyes at
once penetrating and winning in expression.

Mrs. Orton Beg greeted him with pleasure, Mrs. Beale with pleasure also,
but with more ceremony, Edith quite simply and naturally, and then he sat
down. He was in riding dress, with his whip and hat in his hand.

"This is an unexpected pleasure. I did not know you were at Morne," said
Mrs. Orton Beg. "Is Claudia with you?"

"No, I have only come for a few days," Lord Dawne replied, "I came to see
Adeline specially, but they don't return from town till to-morrow. They
have all been assisting at the marriage of a niece of yours, I hear, and
the Heavenly Twins have been prolonging the festivities on their own
account. Adeline wrote to me in despair, and I have come to see if I can