No one had ever interested her so much as Arthur Weldon.  There had been a spice of romance about their former relations that made her still regard him as exceptional among mankind.  She had been asking herself, since the night of the reception, if she still loved him, but could not come to a positive conclusion.  The boy was no longer “ineligible,” as he had been at first; even Uncle John could now have no serious objection to him.  He was handsome, agreeable, occupied a good social position and was fairly well off in the way of worldly goods—­the last point removing Mrs. Merrick’s former rejection of Arthur as a desirable son-in-law.

But girls are wayward and peculiar in such an affaire du coeur, and none of these things might have weighed with Louise had she not discovered that Diana Von Taer was in love with Arthur and intended to win him.  That aroused the girl’s fighting instincts, rendered the young man doubly important, and easily caused Louise to forget her resentment at his temporary desertion of her.  Perhaps, she reflected, it had partially been her own fault.  Now that Arthur showed a disposition to renew their friendship, and she might promise herself the satisfaction of defeating Diana’s ambitions, it would be diplomatic, at least, to receive the youth with cordial frankness.

Therefore she greeted him smilingly and with outstretched hand, saying: 

“This is quite a surprise, Mr. Weldon.  I’d a notion you had forgotten me.”  “No, indeed, Louise!  How could you imagine such a thing?” he answered, reproachfully.

“There was some evidence of the fact,” she asserted archly.  “At one time you gave me no peace; then you became retiring.  At last you disappeared wholly.  What could I think, sir, under such circumstances?”

He stood looking down at her thoughtfully.  How pretty she had grown; and how mature and womanly.

“Louise,” said he, gently, “don’t let us indulge in mutual reproaches.  Some one must have been at fault and I’ll willingly take all the blame if you will forgive me.  Once we were—­were good friends.  We—­we intended to be still more to one another, Louise, but something occurred, I don’t know what, to—­to separate us.”

“Why, you went away,” said the girl, laughing; “and that of course separated us.”

“You treated me like a beggar; don’t forget that part of it, dear.  Of course I went away.”

“And consoled yourself with a certain Miss Diana Von Taer.  It has lately been rumored you are engaged to her.”  “Me?  What nonsense?” But he hushed guiltily, and Louise noted everything and determined he should not escape punishment.

“Diana, at least, is in earnest,” she remarked, with assumed indifference.  “You may not care to deny that you have been very attentive to her.”

“Not especially so,” he declared, stoutly.

“People gossip, you know.  And Diana is charming.”

“She’s an iceberg!”