’It is such a romance!  To think you are an heiress, and that beautiful Bourhill is all your own,’ continued Clara.

‘Do you know it?’ interrupted Gladys, with more interest than she had yet betrayed.

’Yes; I have been there.  We have a house at Troon, and of course when we are there we drive a good deal.  Papa pointed it out to us one day, and said it was sad to see it going to decay.  We had no idea then that we should ever know you.  This is your room; it is quite close to Mina’s and mine.  See, the river is just before the windows.  I always think the Kelvin looks so pretty from here, because one cannot see its impurity.’

‘It is beautiful—­a great change for me,’ said Gladys dreamily, as her eyes roamed round the spacious and elegant guest-chamber.  ’How pleasant it must be always to live among so many beautiful things!  I have loved them all my life, but I have seen so few since I came from the fen country with my uncle.’

’It was very strange that he, so rich, should keep you in that wretched place,’ said Clara.  ’How much better had he shared it all with you while he lived.’

’Yes; but I think he was happier as it was, and it pleased him at the end, I know, to think that he had given me Bourhill.’

’I am sure it did.  Well, I shall go now, dear, and leave you to unpack.  You will find the wardrobe and all the drawers empty.  Mamma will be coming to you immediately, likely.’

With a nod and a smile, Clara took herself off to the drawing-room again.

‘What do you think of Miss Graham of Bourhill?’ asked Mina, with her mouth full of cake.  ‘Quite to the manner born.  Don’t you think so?’

’Quite.  And isn’t she lovely?  Wait till mamma has taken her to Redfern, and then you and I may retire, my dear; we shall be eclipsed.’

’If so, let us be resigned.  One thing I know, you don’t believe in presentiments, of course, you matter-of-fact young person, but I feel that she is to be mixed up with us in some mysterious way, and that some day, perhaps, we may wish we had never seen Miss Graham of Bourhill.’

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XVII.

THE WEST END.

Now Gladys had her opportunity of seeing the beautiful side of life.  Her taste being naturally refined and fastidious, found a peculiar satisfaction in the beauty of her surroundings.  It was a very real pleasure to her to tread upon soft carpets, breathe a pure air, only sweetened by the breath of flowers, and to rest her eyes with delicate combinations of colour and the treasures of art to be found in the lawyer’s sumptuous house.  Never had she more strikingly betrayed her special gift, of which Abel Graham had spoken on his death-bed, ’ability to adapt herself to any surroundings;’ she seemed, indeed, as Mina Fordyce had said, ‘to the manner born.’