Somehow or other, Celia was relieved that she was not asked to dine with the family; for she had feared that she might have to do so. She had her dinner in her own room as usual, and afterwards went into the library to do a little work; but she had scarcely commenced when she heard a knock at the door, and a fashionably-dressed young woman entered. As she rose, Celia knew that it was Lord Heyton's wife, and she regarded the beautiful face and exquisitely-clad figure with all a woman's admiration for a lovely specimen of her own sex.

"Oh, may I come in?" said Lady Heyton. "I shan't disturb you, Miss Grant? I do so want to see you. The Marquess has been telling us about you. What a handsome room! May I sit down—you're sure I shan't disturb you, be a nuisance?"

"Oh, no," replied Celia, pushing forward one of the antique but comfortable chairs.

Lady Heyton seated herself, looked round her, and then fixed her eyes on Celia's face, curiously.

"And so you are the lady librarian; and this is where you work? How charming! Why didn't you come in to dinner to-night?" she asked, abruptly.

"I dine alone, in that room," replied Celia, colouring slightly.

"How quaint!" remarked Lady Heyton, with a little shrug. "I shall ask the Marquess whether you can't dine with us; you will be company for me. It was rather dull this evening, and I was terribly bored. It's the first time I've been here, you know; the first time I've seen the Marquess, in fact. Don't you find this great big place rather—rather depressing?" She gave a little shudder, and held out her ring-laden hands towards the fire. "I suppose it's because the house is so old, and there are so few people in it.—But tell me about yourself. You're very young, and—yes, you're exceedingly good-looking. Do you mind my telling you so?"

"Not at all," said Celia, with a smile. "I wish the information was as accurate as it is candid. No, I don't find the house dull. I'm very busy, you see."

"Ah, that makes a difference, I suppose," said Miriam, leaning back and barely concealing a yawn with her hand. "I'm afraid I shall be bored to death if we stay here long. You know, I've only been married a short time, and I hate being bothered."

Celia noted the petulant droop of the almost perfect lips, the faint lines of weariness which trailed from the corners of them, noted the weakness of the chin, the restlessness of the blue eyes which shone like amethysts in the firelight; it was evident to Celia that this beautiful, graceful young creature was not a happy woman. She did not know how much, since her marriage, Miriam had deteriorated, mentally and spiritually. One cannot touch pitch and escape undefiled.

"Oh, I've no doubt you'll find plenty to amuse you," she said. "The country is delightful——"

"Oh, I'm rather fed up with the country," said Lady Heyton. "I've lived in it all my life, you see—one of a poor country parson's superfluous daughters. Oh, I've had enough of muddy lanes and stupid local people. Give me London—and life. One doesn't live in the country, one only exists, like a vegetable. Do you like my dress?" she asked, with her irrelevant abruptness; and she cast a complacent eye down her exquisitely-clad figure.

"It is a very beautiful one," said Celia.

"Paris. The worst of Paris is that, once you have had it, everything else seems dowdy. By the way, that's a very pretty frock you're wearing," she added, with an appraising glance.

"I'm glad you like it," said Celia, laughing. "I made it myself."

"Really! How clever you must be! Oh, of course, in the old days I've made dresses myself; but they were always sights. Yes; you must be very clever; you have good taste, evidently. I've got a maid who's a perfect fool; perhaps, sometimes, you won't mind giving her a hint or lending her a hand?"

"Why, I should be very pleased to do so," said Celia; "though I'm afraid she will not consider my advice or assistance of any great value, Lady Heyton."

"How nicely you said that!" said Miriam, again looking up at Celia, curiously. She possessed intelligence enough to discern, at the first glance, that Celia was not the common, ordinary type of girl she had expected to see; but the repose of Celia's attitude, the timbre of her voice, were making their due impression. "But, of course, you would speak nicely, having to do with books and all that sort of thing. Do you like the Marquess?" she asked, slipping off to another subject, with her usual irrelevance. "He is very stern and grim; and I must confess I'm almost afraid of him. He is quite different from Percy; they're scarcely like father and son—I mean my husband, of course."

"I don't think the Marquess is very stern or hard," said Celia, musingly. "I have only spoken to him once, but he seemed very kind," she added, with a certain hesitation; for she remembered that he had been somewhat stern in the matter of the portrait.

"Oh, I dare say it's only his manner," said Lady Heyton; "and I suppose I'm not a favoured person. You see, he was opposed to our marriage: poor parson's daughter, you know."

Celia coloured with embarrassment; it seemed to her that this beautiful young woman was without reserve, and that her remark had been in very bad taste; but Celia was always ready to make allowances and look on the best side of people, so she said, gently:

"I dare say you will grow to like him. He is sure to like you."

"Think so?" said Miriam. "Well, I hope he will; he ought to like his daughter-in-law; and I mean to make him, if I can. I want to keep the peace between him and Percy; they haven't been the best of friends, as I dare say you've heard. Did you cut that dress from a paper pattern, or how?"

"You've guessed correctly," said Celia, laughing. "It was cut from a paper pattern, given away with a popular magazine."

"Well, it fits awfully well. And there's a style about it; it's quite chic. Oh, you really must give a hint or two to that idiot of a Marie. What society is there here? I thought, as we drove from the station, that the place looked awfully dull and quiet. By the way," she went on, without waiting for her question to be answered, "didn't I see you standing at one of the cottages as we drove past?"

"Yes," said Celia. "I had been calling on a friend."

"A friend," repeated Lady Heyton, raising her brows, languidly. "Do you mean the woman with the baby? I thought she looked quite a common, ordinary sort of person."

"I should scarcely call Susie common," said Celia, with a smile. "I like her very much."

"Do you? How quaint! This fire is very jolly. Do you always have one here?" asked her ladyship, as if her volatile mind had forgotten the last subject of the conversation.

Celia told her that the fire was lit every evening, and Lady Heyton, rising with a yawn, remarked that she should often drop in for a warm; the rest of the house seemed to her chilly. Celia gave the required invitation, and Lady Heyton stood looking about her vacantly, and as if she were waiting for the volition to go.

"I say; do tell me your name?" she said, languidly.

Celia told her.

"Awfully pretty name. Mine's Miriam; ridiculously unsuitable, don't you think? So hard and cold; and I'm anything but that. Pity one can't choose one's own name! Do you mind if I call you 'Celia'? 'Miss Grant' is so stiff."

"Oh, not at all," said Celia.

"Thanks very much. What's that?" she asked, starting, her hand going to her bosom, her brows coming together nervously.

The sound of voices, not in actual altercation, but something very near it, came from the hall.

"It's the Marquess and Percy," said Miriam, in a low and frightened voice. "Oh, I do hope they're not quarrelling. I warned Percy. Hush! Listen!"

She stole to the door and opened it slightly, and Celia heard the Marquess say:

"I have promised. The money shall be paid; but I warn you, Percy, there must be an end to this wicked and foolish extravagance. I say there must be an end to it. I do not want to threaten you, but——"

"Threaten!" came the younger man's voice, which was almost insolent and rather thick, as if he had been drinking too much wine. "No, I don't suppose you do. After all, I've got to live. I'm your son——"

"Do not hesitate," said the Marquess. "You would add, my heir. I do not forget it. But do not count too much on the fact. I say to you, do not count too much on it. Percy!" His tone changed to a pleading one. "For Heaven's sake, take heed to what I say. Do not try me too much. There are reasons——"

His voice broke and ceased; with a glance at Celia and a shrug, Lady Heyton opened the door widely, and went into the hall.

"I have been making the acquaintance of Miss Grant," Celia heard her say, with an affectation of casualness. "Are you two going into the smoking-room; may I come with you? I shall feel so lonely in that big, solemn drawing-room."

"Miss Grant in there?" said Lord Heyton, with a nod towards the library. "I should like to make her acquaintance, too."

He took a step towards the door; but Celia closed it and went quickly into the room beyond; and soon afterwards, when the coast was clear, went up to her own room.