Society also lost its fashionable monarch, as far as Leroy was concerned.  The vow that he had registered beside the dead body of the girl who had so loved him, was religiously kept.  He disappeared from his former place in the world of amusement, and the devotees of pleasure knew him no more.

After the funeral, he stayed on at Barminster Castle for a time, with his father and Lady Constance; but, with the consent of both, he departed a few months later for Africa, on a big-game shooting expedition.  Living the simple but arduous life of the hunters and trappers, he sought to bury the folly of the past, and restore his hopes of a brighter and better future.

One day, about six months after the death of Vermont, Lord Barminster sat in the dining-room of Barminster Castle.  His eyes, their expression no less keen, but far more gentle than in former years, were bent, sometimes on the cheerful fire, sometimes on the calm face of his ward, where she stood in the deep embrasure of the window, gazing out over the snow.

A book was in her hand, but it was closed; and the wistful look in her sweet eyes showed that her thoughts had flown from the pages of fiction to the realities of the past and the future.

Suddenly Lord Barminster raised his head.

“Constance, what does Lady Ankerton say in her letter?”

The girl took it from the rack on the writing-desk.

“She says,” replied the sweet, musical voice, “that the Ashfords are well and thriving.  She has taken quite an interest in them.  Mr. Harker is rather weak, but cheerful, and so happy in the love of his grandchildren.”

“Ah!” said Lord Barminster, “I am glad they are happy, they deserve all the pleasure they can get.”

He sighed.  “When does the African mail come in, my dear?” he asked as Lady Constance put away the letter she had been reading.

“To-night, usually,” she returned with a sigh.  A sudden flush rose to her cheek, rendering her face still more lovely while it lasted, but leaving her paler than ever when it had gone.

“Still wandering,” said her uncle sadly; “surely, by now, Adrien ought to have forgotten the past.”

“He’ll never come back until he does,” said Lady Constance softly.

“No,” said her uncle, with a touch of pride.  “He will not come back until he can take up a worthier life with a worthy love, Constance.  Ring the bell, my dear, and inquire for the mail.”

She obeyed him and returned to the fire again, placing her hand upon the old man’s shoulder.  Very beautiful she looked, as the bright gleam of the firelight illumined her face, more lovely now because of its tender, womanly expression; and the old man’s gaze rested lovingly on her.

“When he comes back,” he said musingly, “Adrien will find a sweet prize.  He loves you, and his love will increase and endure.”

Almost before he had finished speaking there came the sound of footsteps, and the door opened.  The girl barely turned.