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charity, in taking on the son without the usual fees, he would have no chance for advancement. He will only be a solicitor, after all; hardly a fit mate for ten thousand—'
    'I may expect a lord, no less,' I snapped. 'What is the price in today's market for a title, Aunt?'
    'That need not concern you. And for the love of heaven, don't speak so immodestly when we are in company. You shall have as good a husband as I can find for you.'
    'Delightful,' I muttered; then, as my aunt's face settled back into its smug lines, I asked curiously,
    'Were you able to persuade Mr. Beam to advance more money? I don't understand how it is paid. Is there a fixed allowance, or does he—'
    'Good heavens,' my aunt said, in honest surprise. 'What has gotten into you today, to ask such absurd questions? It is really none of your concern. Oh, I almost forgot; we must stop by the dressmaker's. Lady Arbuthnot's ball is on Friday and your gown is not ready.'
    She leaned forward and gave directions to the coachman. But even the thought of my new gown, which was of pale-blue satin trimmed with rosebuds of pink silk, did not rouse me from an odd discontent. Mr. Jonathan's rough words had found a crevice in my mind and lodged there. Was it really so absurd that I should want to have some decision in how I spent my money, and my life?
    In the growing activity of the season I forgot that brief doubt. Ball followed ball, and the days were filled with calls, dinner parties, and drives. Our lives fell into a pattern; normally I slept late, after the fatigue of evening parties, and had a languid breakfast in bed. My aunt and I entertained for dinner, or went out, almost every day.
    On the days when we had no engagements I remedied the flaws in my education. My aunt had reviewed my accomplishments and declared herself satisfied with almost all. I knew enough Italian and German to translate the little songs I sang, and my drawings and needlework were good enough to display to the uncritical gentlemen who nightly filled our drawing room. But my music! That, according to my aunt, was an essential accomplishment. How else was the company to be entertained but by the performances, on pianoforte and harp, of the unmarried girls in the group? I had my little repertoire of songs for the pianoforte, and sang them in a pleasant enough voice, but my aunt was sadly disappointed by my performance on the harp. As she remarked, the harp was such a splendid thing for showing off graceful arms and soft white hands; the piano was nothing to it. I must have more lessons, and at once, so that I could use the great gilded instrument she had rented—at enormous cost, as she frequently reminded me—which occupied a prominent position by the long windows in the drawing room. Against the heavy crimson velvet drapes, my white hands and light gowns would look elegant as I bent gracefully over the string.
    That was how I met Ferdinand.
    He said his name was really Fernando, but he did not look at all Italian. He reminded me of the Prince, with his dainty moustaches. I fancied he had the same handsome mouth as his Highness. He was not so tall, but he was divinely slim and graceful.
    I told him, naively, that I thought all Italians were dark and swarthy. He explained that he came from the north of Italy, where many people were as fair as he. From the first we found it easy to talk together; only too easy. It must be confessed that my skill with the harp did not improve as rapidly as my aunt desired. How could I concentrate on notes and scales with Fernando's fingers brushing over mine as he bent over me to correct my touch?
    I did not see him often; our lives were too busy. As November wore on, we began to prepare for the greatest social event of the season. With great difficulty and slyness my aunt had managed to get an invitation to a ball at the palatial home of Lady S—, one of London's noblest ladies and most distinguished hostesses. The invitations were prominently displayed, and