I replied at once in the affirmative.

"Then her ladyship is expecting you. I will take you to her."

He moved across a wide and beautifully carpeted hall, knocked at a door at the further end, and, in answer to the words "Come in," flung the door open and announced "Miss Grayson, your ladyship," whereupon I found myself on the threshold of a wonderful and delightfully home-like room. A lady, neither young nor old, had risen as the man appeared. She came eagerly forward—not at all with the eagerness of Lady Helen, but with the eagerness of one who gives a sincere welcome. Her large brown eyes seemed to express the very soul of benevolence.

"I am glad to see you, dear," she said. "How are you? Sit down on this sofa, won't you? You must rest for a minute or two and then I will take you upstairs myself, and you shall wash your hands and brush your hair before lunch. It is nice to see you again, little Heather. Do you know that all the long years you lived at High View I have been wanting, and wanting in vain, to make your acquaintance?"

"Oh, but what can you mean?" I asked, looking into that charming and beautiful face and wondering what the lady was thinking of. "Would not Aunt Penelope let you? Surely you must have known that I should have been only too proud?"

"My dear, we won't discuss what your aunt wished to conceal from you. Now that you have come to live with your father, and now that you are my near neighbour, I hope to see a great deal of you. Your aunt was doubtless right in keeping you a good deal to herself. You see, dear, it's like this. You have been brought up unspotted from the world."

"I like the world," I answered; "I don't think it's a bad place. I am very much interested in London, and I am exceedingly glad to have met you again. Don't you remember, Lady Carrington, how tightly I held your hand on that dreadful day when I was first brought to Aunt Penelope?"

"I shall never forget the pressure of your little hand. But now I see you are quite ready to come upstairs. Come along, then—Sir John may be in at any moment, and he never likes to have his lunch kept waiting."

Lady Carrington's beautiful bedroom was exactly over her sitting-room. There I saw myself in a sort of glow of colour, all lovely and iridescent and charming. There was something remarkable about the room, for it had a strange gift of putting grace—yes, absolute grace—into your clothes. 

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