Adrien Leroy

With a vivid blush, Lady Constance withdrew her hand from his grasp, and

left the room. Going straight up to her own apartment, she flung herself

on her knees. The kiss he had impressed on her fingers seemed to burn

them; the sound of his voice rang in her ears; yet, with a strength of

mind extraordinary in a girl so young, she put away the sweetness of his

half-formed declaration, hoping that his journey to town meant the

cutting free of all entanglements, and the settling of his affairs.

Early the following morning, the sound of a motor, and the barking of

dogs, brought Lady Constance to her window; below her was Adrien,

followed by a servant with the travelling case, which was placed beside

the chauffeur.

Adrien had already entered the car, and was about to have it set in

motion, when a sudden idea seemed to strike him, and he glanced up at

Lady Constance's window. Seeing this, she opened the casement and stood

framed by the surrounding greenery.

Adrien waved his hand to her; then, hastily scribbling something in a

note-book, he tore the page out, and evidently despatched it by one of

the waiting servants.

She watched every movement, with eyes shining with eagerness, and could

have cried bitterly at the thought of his absence. She knew, too, that

she was playing a dangerous game, when she allowed him to return to

town, his passion still undeclared; yet she felt that this was the only

means of holding his affections; for she was a firm believer in the

adage--"Absence makes the heart grow fonder." She sighed deeply,

however, as with a parting wave of his hand, and bareheaded, Adrien was

rapidly driven away.

A few minutes later the servant brought her the hastily written note. It

was only a scrap of paper, and unfolding it, she read the two lines:

"My father grants us the ball. We will make it an eventful

one.--ADRIEN."

Her face glowed. "We will, indeed," she murmured. "It is a high stake I

play for; but it is worth the struggle. Heaven grant me his whole heart!

I ask nothing else."

Carefully locking the scrap of paper away, she descended into the

morning-room, where Lord Barminster was already seated at the

breakfast-table. His grim face softened at the entry of the girl he had

always looked upon as a daughter, and loved even more intensely--if that

were possible--now that he meant to win her for his son's bride.

"So Adrien has left us again?" he began, as she poured out his coffee.