It is some time since we have seen Mrs. Lyle and her elder daughter.

We must seek them now in one of "the stately homes of England."

They are the guests of Lady Valentine at her elegant residence in the most fashionable quarter of London.

Nearly four years have elapsed since we first met the Lyles and heard the spirited discussion over little Queenie's first ball and Sydney's old green silk dress.

Sydney and Georgina would not need to scrimp little Queenie's share of finery to bedeck themselves now were she living.

Georgina's husband is wealthy and indulgent, and "Uncle Robert," the beneficent friend of their earlier days, has charged himself with Sydney's support ever since her father died until recently, when she has married a wealthy man.

Mrs. Lyle lives with Georgina, and still enjoys the whirl of fashionable life as much as ever—indeed more than ever, for now there is no vexing question relative to the girls' finery disturbing her placid mind.

It is a chilly morning in mid-winter, and the three ladies are sitting in a pleasant morning-room, Georgina, grown plump and indolent, idly reclining in an easy-chair, with her dimpled white hands lazily folded over her silken lap, Mrs. Lyle perusing a morning paper, and Sydney gazing restlessly out of the window—watching, perhaps, for her husband—the honeymoon is not a month old yet, and she is naturally impatient at his absence.

Into this quiet scene enters Lord Valentine and tosses some cards into his wife's lap.

"Tickets for La Reine Blanche to-night," he says.

All three ladies utter a cry of delight.

"At last," exclaims Mrs. Lyle, in a spasm of anticipation.

"Yes, at last," laughs my Lord Valentine. "The great American actress will play at the theater to-night, and we shall have a chance to see if she is really as great an artiste as Madame Rumor reports."

"Here is a paragraph regarding her now," says Mrs. Lyle, and taking up the paper, she reads aloud:

"The beautiful and gifted young American actress, Madame Reine De Lisle, will make her debut before a London audience to-night in the great emotional play of 'Romeo and Juliet.' The fame of this wonderful artiste has preceded her to England, and all lovers of the drama are on the qui vive for the first appearance of La Reine Blanche, as her admirers call her."

"La Reine Blanche," said Lord Valentine's little sister, looking up from her volume of history as she sat in a corner by the fire. "La Reine Blanche—that means 'the white queen.' They used to call Mary Queen of Scots La Reine Blanche, because she was so fair and lovely, and because she wore a white dress when she was in mourning. I have just been reading about her in my history. I wonder if this great actress is beautiful also?"

"She is said to be the most beautiful blonde in the world, Alice," said Lord Valentine, smiling down at the little school-girl.

A slight cloud has shadowed the brightness of Lady Valentine's face while little Lady Alice is speaking. She leans toward her mother, and says in a slightly lowered voice, but one which is distinctly audible to Sydney:

"Alice's French recalls my own, mamma. Have you ever thought what the name of this great tragedy queen, if rendered into English, would be?"

"Reine De Lisle," repeated Mrs. Lyle, musingly.

Then she gives a great start.

"It would be—ah, it would be Queen Lyle!"

"Exactly," says Georgina. "Quite an odd coincidence. Is it not?"

She leans back in her seat with a thoughtful look on her pretty pink and white face.

Old times and old interests crowd into her mind with the memory of her younger sister. Time has thrown a veil over Queenie's faults and follies, and Georgina recalls her now with a softening remembrance, and half regrets the scorn she cast upon her when she returned to them so strangely.

"But ah! that missing year," she asks herself, as she has done many times before. "Where was it spent?"

Sydney had risen at the first mention of Queenie's name and swept out of the room. Neither time nor change had softened her hatred and resentment against poor little Queenie.

She had hated her beautiful sister while living, and she hated her, even in her grave, so bitterly that she could not endure the mention of her name even now when years had come and gone.