"Now don't call the garden-party names, my dear, just because you would prefer to be wasting this beautiful day in that stupid, stuffy office of yours. And, Amy, don't pay any attention to what your uncle says. Your hat is very pretty. I am sure it ought to be, as nothing was considered good enough for your ladyship but a fabrication from Paris. By the bye, Pearl, do you know anything about Sir Ralph Nicholson? Is he still here? He never comes our way now. What's the matter with him? I have seen him once since his return, and he appeared considerably changed from the genial, pleasant fellow that I remember him."
Both Pearl and Amy reddened at Mrs. Rawlinson's questions. Neither conscience was entirely free from guilt.
"Yes," answered the former hesitatingly, "he is still here. He came to see me yesterday, and said that he would be at the party to-day. But here we are," she added, as with a certain relief she saw the entrance to the Palace gardens.
"Oh, Pearl, isn't it lovely?" exclaimed Amy. "I never saw the cherry trees so beautiful as they are this year."
They walked through the picturesque grounds, planted with the world-famed cherry tree, heavy with its fragrant mass of blossom. Interspersed was the graceful momiji, or spring maple, clothed in its luxurious mantle of brilliant red, forming with the dark foliage of the lofty pines, and the varied greens of rare and ancient trees in all their rich and perfect beauty, an enchanting contrast to the cloudless azure sky above. Pearl for a moment, in her admiration of these beauties of nature, perfected by the cunning art of man, forgot to be anxious and unhappy. Her sweet face was no longer grave, and her eyes shone, as, giving herself up to the enjoyment of the hour, she experienced the charm of gazing at a landscape glorified at that moment by glowing, brilliant sunshine, and scented by the delicate odour of a myriad faintly-tinted, profusely clustering blooms.
Her eyes revelled in the unrivalled beauty of these lovely grounds, and only when she arrived at the waiting place beneath the ancient and wide-spreading trees, and was quickly surrounded and greeted by her many friends, did she realise that she was there not merely to admire, but, in her turn, to be equally admired.
She was in an animated conversation with the Minister of Foreign Affairs and the Belgian and Spanish Chefs de Mission, when Amy came up to her.
"Fancy, Pearl," she exclaimed, "Baron de Pennett has just told me that Monsieur de Güldenfeldt is still away at Sendai and Hakodate, and all sorts of out-of-the-way places. You are guilty of keeping him away like this," she added in a whisper. "He loves these functions as a rule. But no doubt he has forgotten all about you by this time. Men are strange animals. Talk about the fickleness and changeableness of women indeed! Just look at the pronounced way Sir Ralph is flirting with that strong-minded looking female in magenta. Not that I care a bit, you know. Though I can't say I particularly admire his taste, do you?" And Amy's dark orbs flashed disdainfully.
Pearl let her eyes travel in the direction indicated, and, as she looked, a puzzled expression came into them. "I seem to know that face," she said musingly. "Where can I have seen it before?"
She was still pondering, when her thoughts were interrupted by a man's voice behind her enquiring, in a strong foreign accent, "Madame Nugent, may I be allowed to have the honour of presenting an old friend of mine to you?" and turning, Pearl with no previous warning of the ordeal before her, met Lord Martinworth face to face.