“No, mother; Miss Gladstone is not an American,” Archie explained. “She is an English lassie, and we met on shipboard while crossing the Atlantic; but more of that story anon,” he said, significantly. “Now, will you entertain her for a few moments while I go and find Vivien?”
“With pleasure,” Lady Sherbrooke responded, her heart bounding to hear those clear, joyous tones ringing through her son’s voice—sounds which she had not heard before since his first return from America; while she said to herself:
“This is the girl whom my son loves and will choose for his wife;” and her heart warmed toward Star as it never had done before toward another outside of her own family.
After finding his sister and taking her back to Star and his mother, Lord Carrol sought Mr. Rosevelt and had a long talk with him, explaining to him, as he had to his dear one, the unfortunate circumstances which had conspired to separate them, and learning in return something of their life during the past fourteen or fifteen months.
After this he rejoined the trio of ladies—those three beautiful women whom he loved above everything else in the world.
“The ‘story’ that you were going to tell me, Archie, but did not, as you were called away to London, is told. I read it in your face to-night, and in that of the beautiful girl to whom you have introduced me. My boy, I think now that you will be your own dear self once more,” Lady Sherbrooke whispered, as he came and stood by her side, and his eyes, in reply, told her more than his lips could have done; but he asked, in a low, intense tone:
“Is she not rightly named Star?”
“She is charming; I have no fault to find with her personally. But her family?” she questioned, cautiously.
“Is all right also, mother mine. I will tell you all about it to-morrow.”
In a distant corner of the room Mrs. Richards and Josephine sat and viewed this meeting, bitterest envy rankling in their hearts.