Lord Dawne's friends made no secret of his grand and chivalrous devotion
to the distinguished woman known to them all as Ideala. Every one of them
was aware, although he had never let fall a word on the subject, that he
had remained single on her account--every one but Ideala herself. She
never suspected it, or thought of love at all in connection with Lord
Dawne--and, besides, she was married.

When her friends had gone that day Mrs. Orton Beg sat long in the
gathering dusk, watching the newly lighted fire burn up, and thinking. She
was thinking of Evadne chiefly, wondering why she had had no news of her,
why her sister Elizabeth did not write, and tell her all about the wedding;
and she was just on the verge of anxiety--in that state when various
possibilities of trouble that might have occurred to account for delays
begin to present themselves to the mind, when all at once, without hearing
anything, she became conscious of a presence near her, and looking up she
was startled to see Evadne herself.

"My dear child!" she gasped, "what has happened? Why are you here?"

"Nothing has happened, auntie; don't be alarmed," Evadne answered. "I am
here because I have been a fool."

She spoke quietly but with concentrated bitterness, then sat down and
began to take off her gloves with that exaggerated show of composure which
is a sign in some people of suppressed emotion.

Her face was pale, but her eyes were bright, and the pupils were dilated.

"I have come to claim your hospitality, auntie," she pursued, "to ask you