“She is a very pretty creature,” said the Colonel, under the sparkle of her bright eyes.

“I never saw any one make the pursuits of young ladyhood have so much spirit and meaning,” added Rachel.  “Here you see she has managed to make herself sufficiently like other people, yet full of individual character and meaning.”

“That is the theory of dress, I suppose,” said the Colonel.

“If one chooses to cultivate it.”

“Did you ever see Lady Temple in full dress?”

“No; we were not out when we parted as girls.”

“Then you have had a loss.  I think it was at our last Melbourne ball, that when she went to the nursery to wish the children good night, one of them—­Hubert, I believe—­told her to wear that dress when she went to heaven, and dear old Sir Stephen was so delighted that he went straight upstairs to kiss the boy for it.”

“Was that Lady Temple?” said Alick Keith, who having found Miss Grey engaged many deep, joined them again, and at his words came back a thrill of Rachel’s old fear and doubt as to the possible future.

“Yes,” said the Colonel; “I was recollecting the gracious vision she used to be at all our chief’s parties.”

“Vision, you call her, who lived in the house with her?  What do you think she was to us—­poor wretches—­coming up from barracks where Mrs. O’Shaughnessy was our cynosure?  There was not one of us to whom she was not Queen of the East, and more, with that innocent, soft, helpless dignity of hers!”

“And Sir Stephen for the first of her vassals,” said the Colonel.

“What a change it has been!” said Alick.

“Yes; but a change that has shown her to have been unspoilable.  We were just agreeing on the ball-room perfections of her and your sister in their several lines.”

“Very different lines,” said Alick, smiling.

“I can’t judge of Fanny’s,” said Rachel, “but your sister is almost enough to make one believe there can be some soul in young lady life.”

“I did not bring Bessie here to convert you,” was the somewhat perplexing answer.

“Nor has she,” said Rachel, “except so far as I see that she can follow ordinary girls’ pursuits without being frivolous in them.”  Alick bowed at the compliment.

“And she has been a sunbeam,” added Rachel, “we shall all feel graver and cloudier without her.”

“Yes,” said Colonel Keith, “and I am glad Mr. Clare has such a sunbeam for his parsonage.  What a blessing she will be there!” he added, as he watched Bessie’s graceful way of explaining to his brother some little matter in behalf of the shy mother of a shy girl.  Thinking he might be wanted, Colonel Keith went forward to assist, and Rachel continued, “I do envy that power of saying the right thing to everybody!”

“Don’t—­it is the greatest snare,” was his answer, much amazing her, for she had her mind full of the two direct personal blunders she had made towards him.