There had been a croquet party at “The Maples,” but nearly every one was gone except two or three who were remaining for dinner.  Among these, with a movement of vexation, Cecil observed Major Fane, her father’s persistent encouragement of whom began to cause her serious uneasiness.  Why, this was the second time within four days he had been asked to dine!  “Can he possibly have spoken to papa first?” thought she.  “It is just the sort of matter-of-fact thing he would do.”  Revolving it over, she walked slowly towards her step-mother, who was revelling in a packet of English letters just received, and began reading out portions to Cecil, who listened absently at first, till a passage in one of them, from circumstances, arrested her attention.

It was from a cousin of Mrs. Rolleston’s, and chiefly related to her only daughter, who was heiress to a considerable property.  This child had always been backward and excitable, and apparently incapable of the fatigue of study.  The letter went on to say that Evelyn was developing a passion for music, even attempting to compose, and that the writer desired to find a good musician to reside with them, who should be also young and cheerful, and likely to tempt her on in other branches of education as well.

“Mrs. Leighton is exactly describing Bluebell,” said Cecil, quietly.

“Oh! and she would suit them so perfectly.  I wonder if it would do!  Bluebell will be crazy with delight, she has such a wish to see England; but I doubt if her mother would part with her to such a distance.”

Cecil despised herself for saying,—­“If you were to put it very strongly to Mrs. Leigh, and show her the advantages to her daughter,—­for they are rich as Croesus, and would pay anything for a fancy,—­surely she would not stand in her way.”

Mrs. Rolleston was meditating, and answered, rather inconsequently,—­“I feel greatly interested in Bluebell.  I think she is very conscientious and right-minded.  Mr. Vavasour never comes here now; and I am sure she has never encouraged him since I gave her a hint on the subject.”

Cecil remembered the scene in the Humber, and Bluebell’s suggestively-conscious face that evening, so did not rate so highly the heroism of her friend.  But the stragglers now drew round them, and they went in to prepare for dinner.

Cecil had also kept Lilla Tremaine, for latterly she had shrunk from a tete-a-tete with Bluebell, who, sensible of their estrangement, yet sadly acquiesced in it, as her new-born suspicions had been strengthened by seeing Cecil receive a letter in Bertie’s handwriting.

Lilla, who could not forget the tableau vivant she had witnessed, was continually persecuting her hapless victim with inuendoes and allusions, whose anger and powerlessness to exculpate herself gave an additional zest to the amusement.  Therefore, finding this young lady was to remain the evening, Bluebell took refuge in the school-room tea, and did not appear at dinner.