were released, the blue eyes of Major Grayson looked full into mine. Certainly father's eyes were the most wonderful in all the world. They seemed to me to hold within their depths a mixture of every sort of emotion, of fun, of reluctant, half ashamed, half pleased, half boyish penitence, of sorrow, of a pathos which was always there and always half hidden, and also of a queer and indescribable nobility, which, notwithstanding the fact that I had not seen him for years, and notwithstanding the other fact that he had married a worldly woman when he might have made me so happy, seemed to have grown and strengthened on his face. He kissed one of his hands to me, raised Lady Helen's jewelled hand to his lips, bowed to her, smiled, and departed.

"He has charming manners," she said, and then she turned to me.

"Bring me food, child," she said; "I want you to wait on me to-day; I am tired; we had a very rough crossing. To-morrow I shall take you in hand, but you are tremendously improved already. Yes, your father has delightful manners—we shall win through yet; but it will be a battle."

"What do you mean by 'winning through'?" I asked.

"Nothing that you need interfere about," she answered, a little sharply; "only listen to me once for all. I am not Lady Helen Dalrymple for nothing, and when I stoop to conquer I do conquer. Now then, fetch me the cake basket; I am ravenously hungry and have a passion for chocolate."

I gave her what she required, and she ate without looking at me, her sharp eyes wandering round and round the room.

"Why, how hideous!" she suddenly exclaimed. "How more than wrong of Clarkson! I gave orders that the curtains in this room were to be rose-pink; those dull blue abominations must come down; we won't have them—they'd try anyone's complexion. Child, for goodness' sake don't stare! And yet, come and let me look at you. That blue dress suits you; but then you are young, and you have a complexion for blue."

She patted my hand for a minute, then she yawned profoundly.

"I am glad to be home," she said. "A honeymoon when you are no longer young is fatiguing, to say the least of it, and I am sick of hotel life. I have already sent out my 'At Home' invitations, and for the next few days the house will be crammed every afternoon. You will have to be present—why, of course, you will—don't knit your brows together like that. I mean to be a good stepmother to you, Heather. 

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