Her passion transformed her.  Her vehement spirit remained, but everything else was changed.  Her old dreams and longings were cast out by the new.  She laughed with Mrs. Blake and Addie, but under the laughter she hid her love, and cherished it in fierce and solitary silence.  Yet even to herself the transformation seemed so wonderful that she could hardly believe in it, and acted the rough girl now and then with the idea that otherwise they must think her a consummate actress morning, noon and night.  For some months no great event marked the record of her unsuspected passion.  It might, perhaps, have run its course, and died out harmlessly in due time, but for an unlucky afternoon, about a week before her birthday, when Percival uttered some thoughtless words which woke a tempest of doubt and fear in Lottie’s heart.  She did not question his love, but she caught a glimpse of his pride, and felt as if a gulf had opened between her and her dream of happiness.

Percival was calling at the house on the eventful day which was destined to influence Lottie’s fate and his own.  He was in a happy mood, well pleased with things in general, and, after his own fashion, inclined to be talkative.  When visitors arrived and Addie exclaimed, “Mrs. Pickering and that boy of hers—­oh bother!” she spoke the feelings of the whole party; and Percival from his place by the window looked across at Lottie and shrugged his shoulders expressively.  Had there been time he would have tried to escape into the garden with his girl friend; but as that was impossible, he resigned himself to his fate and listened while Mrs. Pickering poured forth her rapture concerning her son’s prospects to Mrs. Blake.  An uncle who was the head of a great London firm had offered the young man a situation, with an implied promise of a share in the business later.  “Such a subject for congratulation!” the good lady exclaimed, beaming on her son, who sat silently turning his hat in his hands and looking very pink.  “Such an opening for William!  Better than having a fortune left him, I call it, for it is such a thing to have an occupation.  Every young man should be brought up to something, in my opinion.”

Mrs. Blake, with a half glance at Addie and a thought of Horace, suggested that heirs to landed estates—­

“Well, yes.”  Mrs. Pickering agreed with her.  Country gentlemen often found so much to do in looking after their tenants and making improvements that she would not say anything about them.  But young men with small incomes and no profession—­she should be sorry if a son of hers—­

“Like me, for instance,” said Percival, looking up.  “I’ve a small income and no profession.”

Mrs. Pickering, somewhat confused, hastened to explain that she meant nothing personal.

“Of course not,” he said:  “I know that.  I only mentioned it because I think an illustration stamps a thing on people’s memories.”

“But, Percival,” Mrs. Blake interposed, “I must say that in this I agree with Mrs. Pickering.  I do think it would be better if you had something to do—­I do indeed.”  She looked at him with an air of affectionate severity.  “I speak as your friend, you know.” (Percival bowed his gratitude.) “I really think young people are happier when they have a settled occupation.”