’Really, Mina, you should not speak so strongly.  You know papa and mamma wouldn’t like it,’ protested Clara mildly; but Mina only laughed.

’It is such a relief on a day like this to “go for” some one, as Len would say, and why not for one’s relations?  It’s their chief use.  And you know Julia Fordyce has more airs than a duchess.  George is rather better, and he is so divinely handsome that you can’t remember that he has a single fault.’

Was it the firelight, or did the colour heighten rapidly in Clara’s cheek?

‘Such nonsense you talk, Mina,’ she said hastily.

’It isn’t nonsense at all.  Have we never exhibited the photograph of our Adonis, Gladys?’

‘I don’t think so,’ answered Gladys, with a smile.  ’Suppose you let me see it now?’

’Of course.  That was an unpardonable oversight, which his lordship would never forgive.  He is frightfully conceited, as most handsome men unfortunately are.  It isn’t their fault, poor fellows; it’s the girls who spoil them.  Here he is.’

She brought a silver frame from a cabinet, and, with an absurd assumption of devotion, dropped a kiss on it before she gave it to Gladys.  Gladys sat up, and, holding the photograph up between the light, looked at it earnestly.  It was the portrait of a man in hunting dress, standing by his horse, and certainly no fault could be found with his appearance.  His figure was a model of manly grace, and his face remarkably handsome, so far as fine features can render handsome a human face; yet there was a something, it might be only a too-conscious idea of his own attractions, which betrayed itself in his expression, and in the eyes of Gladys detracted from its charm.

‘It is a pretty picture,’ she said innocently.  ’The horse is a lovely creature.’

Then Mina threw herself back in her chair, and laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks—­a proceeding which utterly perplexed Gladys.

’Oh, Clara, isn’t that lovely?  If I don’t tell George Fordyce that the first time I see him!  It’ll do him all the good in the world.  Only, Gladys, he will never forgive you.’

‘Why?  I have not said anything against him.’

’No, you have simply ignored him, and that is an unpardonable offence against my lord.  You must let me tell him, Gladys.  It is really my duty to tell him, and we should always do our duty by our relations, should we not?’

‘I am sure I don’t mind in the least if you do tell him,’ replied Gladys serenely.  ‘Do you think I said anything very dreadful, Clara?’

’Not I. Never mind Mina, dear.  You should be learning not to mind anything she says.’

’There’s the bell.  That’s mother, I hope.  We never miss mother more than at tea-time,’ said Mina, jumping up.  Love for her mother was the passion of her soul.  It shone in her face, and betrayed itself in a hundred little attentions which touched Gladys inexpressibly.  Clara was always more reserved, but though her feelings found slower expression they were not less deep and keen; and though Gladys felt at home and happy with every member of that singularly united household, it was to Clara, who was so seldom the favourite outside, that her heart went out in love.