"Oh, Dicky," Mabel blushed, "he's such a silly man, Miss--well then, Gertrude."
"Hurrah, Gertrude! you are received into the family circle," said I.
"Not until she meets Cannington," said Mabel, rising. "What a lovely, lovely room you have, Gertrude," she moved from one point to another; "it's as lovely as--you are."
"What a nice speech, Mabel."
"Yes, isn't it? I always make nice speeches, and--and--oh!" she stopped short.
"What's the matter?" asked Gertrude, seeing that her visitor was staring at a photograph in a silver frame, "that is my father."
"Your father," repeated Mabel, and my blood ran chill, for I guessed what was coming. "Why, it's a photograph of Mr. Wentworth Marr, who wished to marry me."
[CHAPTER XVIII.]
AN ALARMING MESSAGE
I sat and shivered in my brown shoes. In bringing Lady Mabel to The Lodge I had quite overlooked the possibility that she might espy the photograph of Monk which stood always, as I very well knew, on the piano in the drawing-room, and the worst of it was that the photograph had only been taken a few months, so there was no possibility of mistaking the face. It was certain that Mabel would appeal to me for confirmation of her assertion, since I had met Marr in her presence, so what could I do? While the two girls stared alternatively at one another and at the photograph, I tried to make up my mind what course it would be best to pursue.