older races, that she could not forget?  She had loved a man who was unworthy; she had loved him for no better reason, she understood now, than a superficial charm, a romantic appeal.  The fault was in the man, she knew, yet she had forgiven the man long ago, while she still hated Rose Stribling.  Perversity, inconsistency—­but it was her nature, and she could not overcome it.  “If she had ever loved him, I might have forgiven her,” she thought, “but she cared for him as little as she cares for Gideon Vetch to-day.  It was vanity then, and it is vanity now.  You cannot hurt her heart—­only her pride—­”

Her father called from the stairs; and with a last swift glance at her image, she caught up a fan of ostrich plumes and a wrap of peacock-blue velvet.  She had never looked more brilliant in her life, not even on that June morning twenty-five years ago, when, coloured like a rose, she had been married to Kent Page beneath a bower of roses.  She had lost much since then, freshness, innocence, the trusting heart and the transparent gaze, but she had lost neither charm nor radiance.

“So we are invited to meet Gideon Vetch,” remarked the Judge as they went down the steps; and from the whimsical sound of his voice, she knew that there was a smile on his face.  The house, with its picturesque English front half hidden by Virginia creeper, stood at the end of a long avenue, in the centre of a broad lawn planted in fine old elms.

“Yes, there must be some reason for the dinner, but Sarah Berkeley did not tell me.”

“Well, I’ll be glad to see the Governor again,” said the Judge, leaning comfortably back as the car rolled down the avenue to the road, “but you will have a dreary evening, I fear, unless John should be there.”

Corinna smiled in the darkness.  So even her father, who so rarely noticed anything, had observed her growing interest in John Benham.  After all, might this be—­this sudden revival of an old sentiment in John’s heart—­“the something different,” the ultimate perfection for which she had sought all her life?  “He is beginning to mean more to me than any one else,” she thought.  “If only I had never heard that old gossip about Alice Rokeby.”

Leaning over, she patted the Judge’s hand.  “Don’t have me on your mind, Father darling.  Go ahead and enjoy the Governor as much as you can.  I am easy to amuse, you know, and besides, I have my own particular iron in the fire to-night.”

“You are never without expedients, my child, but I hope this one has no bearing on Vetch.”

“Oh, but it has.  Like Esther, the queen, I have put on royal apparel for an ulterior object.  Did you notice that I had made myself as terrible as an army with banners?”

“I thought you were looking unusually lovely,” replied the Judge gracefully.  “But you are always so handsome that I suspected no guile.”

Corinna laughed merrily.  “But I am full of guile, dear innocent!  I go forth to conquer.”