Hope, a vision in white, leaned back resignedly in the soft embrace of the carriage cushions.

"I thought," she said, "you never visited the Grandons, Clarice, particularly since Harriet made her alliance with the titleless duke." Mrs. Van Rensselaer smiled behind the laces of her muff. "I didn't suppose you were going there this afternoon," continued the girl, with a sweeping look along the solidly built street. "How does it happen?"

"Well, you see," replied Clarice, "Larry wished it; and you know his wish is law to me—until we're married. That's only right and as it should be—the dear boy!" Then impulsively: "I don't know how I've ever lived without him, Hope! Positively, he is the dearest thing that ever lived!"

"And you'll both be tremendously happy, I know. Both of you young and gay, and in love with life and its frivolities—both the center of your set, and both rattle-brained enough to want to keep that center and throw away your lives in the whirling, rapid stream of society."

"You shouldn't ridicule this life, Hope. Don't you know we are the very pulse of the world! I had an idea you were taking to it pretty well. You are certainly making a tremendous hit. Even mamma smiles upon you in the most affectionate manner, and is proud for once of her offspring. You are simply gorgeous, Hope—a perfect queen!"

The girl's eyes darkened, her face flushed. "A queen," she retorted. "A queen! Clarice, did you ever sit upon a throne and feel the world slipping out from under you? A woman is never a queen, except to the one man. But you are mistaken, Clarice. I simply cannot adapt myself to this life. If it wasn't for the continual monotony of it all—the never changing display of good points and fine clothes—where even one's own prayers are gilded and framed in consciousness and vanity—and these streets—the reflection of it all—these blocks and blocks always the same, like the people they cover—presenting always the same money-stamped faces—oh, it is this sameness that stifles me! It is all grand and wonderful, but it isn't life." She paused, then smiled at Clarice's perplexed face. "Leave me at mamma's when you return, for I've got stacks of things to do, and I want the evening all to myself—Louisa and I, you know. And we'll say, Clarice, that I perfectly love dear old New York."

"Oh, I don't mind, dear, not at all! I know you are no more fitted in your heart for this life than I am for the life out there with those dreadful Indians. But you've certainly been acting superb these last two months!"

"You are such a dear, Clarice," said Hope impulsively, stroking her gloved hand. "I have you and Louisa, and, of course, I am perfectly happy! I tell myself so a thousand times a day. My poor little Louisa! She's about the happiest girl I ever saw in all my life, but she doesn't know it. Here she is worrying her head off because Sydney is pressing his suit too strongly and won't take 'no' for an answer, and she thinks she ought to be faithful to poor Fritz, her cousin, who is really only a sweet, sad memory to her now, while all the time she is crazy in love with Syd. Isn't it a fright? But Sydney is way out in Montana, and his letters serve only as little pricks to her poor conscience. Her replies are left mostly to me, so that is what I must do to-night."

"But your mother entertains this evening. Had you forgotten?" reminded Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "So how are you going to get away?"

"I suppose I will have to come down for awhile, but I simply will not remain long."

"Well, I will see you then. Larry and I are going to drop in for a little while in the early evening."

When they drove away from the Grandons' a half hour later Clarice searched the girl's quiet face for some expression of her thoughts, but found none.

"So you have seen the Lady Livingston at last, Hope! What do you think of her?"

The girl shrugged her shoulders and looked into the street. "Your description tallied very well," she replied.

That evening Hope met the blond Lady Helene at her mother's musicale. This time it was Clarice, again, who brought the meeting about.

Mrs. Van Rensselaer was in her gayest, most voluble mood.

"I'm so anxious to have you two get acquainted," she said. "Dear Lady Helene, this is Hope—Miss Hathaway, and she can tell you everything you want to know about the West. Do, Hope, entertain her for a few moments until I find Larry." This the girl did in her gracious way, but adroitly kept the conversation away from the West.

After a few moments Clarice returned without Larry. A shadow of disappointment crossed her face as she joined the conversation.

"I thought you were going to talk about the West, Hope," she laughed, "and here you are talking New York—nothing but New York!"

"New York is always an entertaining topic," said Lady Helene. "I do not seem to fancy the West particularly. You know Lord Livingston has recently been hurt out there, and so I do not enjoy a very kindly feeling toward that country. The poor boy! I have been so worried about him! Really, don't you know, I haven't had a good night's sleep since I heard of his injury! Yes, you know, it's a wonder he wasn't scalped! It's just fearful, really! He is so much to me, you know. Ever since my poor husband died and the title and estates fell to Edward, I have felt a great responsibility for him. He is so much younger than my husband, Lord Henry, and so, well, really, sort of wild, don't you know." Here Lady Helene smiled and wiped one eye with a filmy bit of lace. Perhaps she was saddened by thoughts of the havoc she had wrought in the life of the late lord, and his fortunes.

Hope sat motionless, suddenly paralyzed. "Do you mean," she asked, in short gasps, "that Edward—Lord Livingston is not your husband?"

"Mercy, no," replied Lady Helene, "my husband's brother! Indeed, Edward is not married! I doubt very much if he ever will be. I hope if he does, that it will be to someone at home, in his own class, don't you know! Really, he is a great responsibility to me, Mrs. Van Rensselaer! Why, where did Miss Hathaway go? She seems to be such a bright, dashing young woman. Really, one meets few American girls so royally beautiful! Yes, as I was saying, Edward is a terrible responsibility to me. Even now I am obliged to hurry away because he has just arrived here in town, and I must meet him at his hotel. That is the worst of not having a house of your own! To think of poor, dear Edward stopping at a hotel!"

"Which one?" gasped Clarice. Receiving the information, she abruptly excused herself from Lady Helene, who immediately decided that some Americans had very poor manners.

While Clarice drove rapidly toward Livingston's hotel, Hope, in eager haste, was literally throwing things in a trunk that had been pulled into the center of the room. Little Louisa, no less excited and eager, assisted.

"To think, my Louisa," laughed the girl, "that we are going back to our West—home—again, away from all this fuss and foolishness! Oh, don't be so particular, dear. Throw them in any way, just so they get in! Our train leaves at twelve, and I have telephoned for tickets, state-room and everything. Isn't it grand? Mamma will be furious! But dear old Dad, won't he be glad! He's so lonesome for me, Louisa. He says he can hardly exist there without me! And Jim, and Sydney, and—everyone! Oh, I am wild for my horses and the prairie again! And you've got to be nice to Syd! Yes, dear, it's your duty. Can't you see it? If you don't, the poor boy will go to the bad altogether, and something dreadful will happen to him! And it will be all your fault!" Which statement sent Louisa into a paroxysm of tears, not altogether sorrowful.

"You will spoil dose beautiful clothes!" she finally exclaimed, looking in dismay through her tears at the reckless packer.

"It makes no difference," laughed Hope. "What are clothes! We will have the rest sent on after us. I suppose we've forgotten half what we really need, but that doesn't matter, either, does it, my Louisa?"

Louisa dried her tears and assisted until the trunk was packed and strapped. Then they took hold of hands and danced like children around it. Suddenly Hope stopped, her face growing white and fearful.

"If he shouldn't forgive me!" she exclaimed softly.

"Ah, but he lofs you!" said Louisa.

At that moment Mrs. Van Rensselaer opened the door and looked in.

"My dear," she began, then stopped in amazement. "What in the world——Why, you are going away!"

"Yes," replied Hope, putting her head down upon Clarice's soft evening wrap. "I am going back to——"

"But he has come to you, dear, and he is waiting right here in the hall!"

"No, no!" breathed the girl.

"But he is!" exclaimed Clarice, gently pushing the girl, still in all her white evening glory of gown, into the great hall. "And he carries his arm in a sling, so do be careful!" she admonished, closing the door upon her.

From below came the indistinct murmur of many voices. Under the red glare of the lamp at the head of the broad staircase Livingston and Hope met in a happiness too great for words.

"Louisa," said Clarice Van Rensselaer, from her seat upon the trunk, "I hope you see it your duty to make a man of Sydney."

"A man," replied Louisa indignantly, "he is already de greatest man in all de whole world, and I lof him!"

Finis.

TRANSCRIBER NOTES:

Punctuation corrected without note.

page 48: "through" changed to "though" (as though talking to herself).

page 95: "bloodthristy" changed to "bloodthirsty" (more bloodthirsty than she suspected).

page 123: "protuded" changed to "protruded" (teeth protruded from her thin lips).

page 303: "upon" removed from text as redundant (patting him upon the head).

page 369: "close" changed to "closed" (just before the flap of the white tent closed upon her).