“Something very nice has happened,” she said.

“Something nice?” repeated Emily.

Lady Agatha sat down.  The letter from Curzon Street was in her hand half unfolded.

“I have had a letter from mamma.  It seems almost bad taste to speak of it so soon, but we have talked to each other so much, and you are so kind, that I want to tell you myself.  Sir Bruce Norman has been to talk to papa about—­about me.”

Emily felt that her cup filled to the brim at the moment.

“He is in England again?”

Agatha nodded gently.

“He only went away to—­well, to test his own feelings before he spoke.  Mamma is delighted with him.  I am going home to-morrow.”

Emily made a little swoop forward.

“You always liked him?” she said.

Lady Agatha’s delicate mounting colour was adorable.

“I was quite unhappy,” she owned, and hid her lovely face in her hands.

In the morning-room Lord Walderhurst was talking to Lady Maria.

“You need not give Emily Fox-Seton any more clothes, Maria,” he said.  “I am going to supply her in future.  I have asked her to marry me.”

Lady Maria lightly gasped, and then began to laugh.

“Well, James,” she said, “you have certainly much more sense than most men of your rank and age.”

PART TWO

Chapter Seven

When Miss Emily Fox-Seton was preparing for the extraordinary change in her life which transformed her from a very poor, hardworking woman into one of the richest marchionesses in England, Lord Walderhurst’s cousin, Lady Maria Bayne, was extremely good to her.  She gave her advice, and though advice is a cheap present as far as the giver is concerned, there are occasions when it may be a very valuable one to the recipient.  Lady Maria’s was valuable to Emily Fox-Seton, who had but one difficulty, which was to adjust herself to the marvellous fortune which had befallen her.

There was a certain thing Emily found herself continually saying.  It used to break from her lips when she was alone in her room, when she was on her way to her dressmaker’s, and in spite of herself, sometimes when she was with her whilom patroness.

“I can’t believe it is true!  I can’t believe it!”

“I don’t wonder, my dear girl,” Lady Maria answered the second time she heard it.  “But what circumstances demand of you is that you should learn to.”

“Yes,” said Emily, “I know I must.  But it seems like a dream.  Sometimes,” passing her hand over her forehead with a little laugh, “I feel as if I should suddenly find myself wakened in the room in Mortimer Street by Jane Cupp bringing in my morning tea.  And I can see the wallpaper and the Turkey-red cotton curtains.  One of them was an inch or so too short.  I never could afford to buy the new bit, though I always intended to.”