The hall was capacious and classic; and as they approached the staircase the sweetest and the clearest voice exclaimed from above:  “Papa, papa!” and instantly a young girl came bounding down the stairs; but suddenly, seeing a stranger with her father, she stopped upon the landing-place.  Mr. Millbank beckoned her, and she came down slowly; at the foot of the stairs her father said briefly:  “A friend you have often heard of, Edith—­this is Mr. Coningsby.”

She started, blushed very much, and then put forth her hand.

“How often have we all wished to see and to thank you!” Miss Edith Millbank remarked in tones of sensibility.

Opposite Coningsby at dinner that night was a portrait which greatly attracted his attention.  It represented a woman extremely young and of a rare beauty.  The face was looking out of the canvas, and the gaze of this picture disturbed the serenity of Coningsby.  On rising to leave the table he said to Mr. Millbank, “By whom is that portrait, sir?”

The countenance of Millbank became disturbed; his expression was agitated, almost angry.  “Oh! that is by a country artist,” he said, “of whom you never heard.”

III.—­The Course of True Love

The Princess Colonna resolved that an alliance should take place between Coningsby and her step-daughter.  But the plans of the princess, imparted to Mr. Rigby that she might gain his assistance in achieving them, were doomed to frustration.  Coningsby fell deeply in love with Miss Millbank; and Lord Monmouth himself decided to marry Lucretia.

It was in Paris that Coningsby, on a visit to his grandfather, woke to the knowledge of his love for Edith Millbank.  They met at a brilliant party, Miss Millbank in the care of her aunt, Lady Wallinger.

“Miss Millbank says that you have quite forgotten her,” said a mutual friend.

Coningsby started, advanced, coloured a little, could not conceal his surprise.  The lady, too, though more prepared, was not without confusion.  Coningsby recalled at that moment the beautiful, bashful countenance that had so charmed him at Millbank; but two years had effected a wonderful change, and transformed the silent, embarrassed girl into a woman of surpassing beauty.  That night the image of Edith Millbank was the last thought of Coningsby as he sank into an agitated slumber.  In the morning his first thought was of her of whom he had dreamed.  The light had dawned on his soul.  Coningsby loved.

The course of true love was not to run smoothly with our hero.  Within a few days he heard rumours that Miss Millbank was to be married to Sidonia, a wealthy and gifted man of the Jewish race, the friend of Lord Monmouth.  Often had Coningsby admired the wisdom and the abilities of Sidonia; against such a rival he felt powerless, and, without mustering courage to speak, left hastily for England.

But Coningsby had been deceived—­the gossip was without foundation; and once more he was to meet Edith Millbank.  This time, however, it was Mr. Millbank himself who vetoed the courtship.