"THE FLOWER OF FRIENDSHIP CAN ONLY BLOOM IN IMPERISHABLE BEAUTY IN THE CONGENIAL SOIL OF A NOBLE NATURE."
"Jar one chord, the harp is silent; move one stone, the arch is shattered;
One small clarion cry of sorrow bids an armed host awake;
One dark cloud can hide the sunlight; loose one string, the pearls are scattered;
Think one thought, a soul may perish; speak one word, a heart may break!"—Adelaide Proctor.
It seemed strange and embarrassing that when Lord Chester arrived in the last week of November he should find no one at home but Precious.
They knew that he had sailed for America, but his steamer had made such rapid time that he arrived in Washington before they knew that he had landed.
Ethel had gone with her mother on a little shopping tour that morning, and Precious remained at home to rest from the fatigue of a ball she had attended the previous evening.
She had risen late and breakfasted in her own room. Then she came down to the drawing-room in a simple morning dress of soft pale blue with silver embroidery, and cords of blue and silver holding in the full loose folds at the waist. Her golden locks, half-loose, half-curled, fell carelessly about her shoulders, framing the exquisite face, with its deep-blue eyes and pink, dimpled cheeks.
She was all alone but for Kay, who lay curled up lazily at her feet on a splendid fur rug, now and then snapping crossly at the tiger-head with open jaws that seemed threatening his destruction.
She was not thinking of visitors that morning, and lay back at ease in a great armchair with her arms over her head in a pretty, careless pose, when suddenly, without warning, the portieres at the door were swept aside by a white hand, and a man entered the room. His step made no sound on the thick carpet, but perhaps her instinct told her the truth, for she turned her head, and their eyes met.
"Precious!"