The Third Miss St Quentin

by Mrs. Molesworth

dances follow so quickly," had been metwith an indulgent smile, and the words, "No, no, my dear--amuse yourselfas much as you can, but remember we must leave at twelve," she feltquite at ease on that point, and somehow she did not again catch sightof Lady Cheynes at all. And with her partners she took care to keep togeneralities, nor was it difficult to do so, seeing that sociallyspeaking she was really a stranger in the neighbourhood.

  She danced twice in succession with Sir Philip, the second timeimmediately following the passage of arms with Madelene in theconservatory. She had not the faintest idea who he was, but she thoughthim by far the most agreeable of her partners. And he, attracted atfirst sight by her beauty, was still more captivated by her pretty,half-childish bearing and the little air of mystery about her, which hewas quick enough to detect.

  "You will give me another dance, I hope?" he said; "though indeed it isperhaps hardly fair of me to ask it, when so many less fortunate than Ihave been already, must be refused."

  "But you were one of the first to ask me," she said simply, "you, andMr--Mr something Belvoir, a son of the house, and a Sir Philipsomebody, and Major--Major Frost. You are not Major Frost, are you?"she added quickly, with a slight tone of inquiry.

  Philip smiled. He was not going to be trotted out by this charminglittle person, who knew so well how to keep her own secrets.

  "Mr Louis Belvoir, you mean," he said, calmly ignoring the latter partof her speech. "Ah, yes, there he comes. You are dancing with him?And what about another waltz?"

  "It must be soon, then," she said, "for I am leaving early; at twelve,not a moment later, my god--my chaperone said."

  "What a very strict chaperone she must be," said Sir Philip, smiling."It sounds quite like a certain old fairy-story. I wish I could bedancing with you when the clock strikes, to see what would happen."

  To his surprise the girl did not laugh, or even smile. She looked up athim with a curious expression.

  "I don't think I like that story," she said. "I have never liked itsince I was a baby. And yet--somehow--it seems always coming up," sheadded in a lower voice.

  Philip's curiosity increased.

  "You don't mean to say," he said laughingly, "that if I call upon youto-morrow morning I shall find you scrubbing the kitchen pots and pans?"

  Ella's face crimsoned.

  "You can't call upon me," she retorted sharply; "you don't know where Ilive nor anything about me."

  "Except your name--Miss Wyndham," he repeated, slightly accentuating thelast two words.

  The girl turned quickly, as just at that moment Mr Louis Belvoir'svoice was heard.

  "Our dance, Miss Winton, I think," he said.

  "And I may claim the next but one then, I hope?" Sir Philip hastened toadd.

  Ella nodded "yes," as she went off on Louis Belvoir's arm.

  "_Who_ can she be?" thought Sir Philip, as he stood there, looking afterthem, rather bewilderedly. "She is quite wonderfully pretty, and--whatis it? Charming is such a stupid word. She is too simple and naive tobe called charming; her eyes are so honest, too. What or who is it shereminds me of I wonder? No one seems to know. And how odd she was whenI alluded to `Cinderella.'"

  He did not dance the next dance but hung about till he could claim "MissWyndham" for the promised waltz, and as he kept her and young Belvoir inview, he had no difficulty in finding her when the time came.

  "This is my last dance," she said, after a turn or two. "Mr Belvoirhas just told me the time."

  "And is your chaperone quite inexorable? Would there be no use intrying to melt her--suppose we do?" suggested Philip eagerly.

  Ella shook her head.

  "No," she said with a little sigh. "I promised not even to ask her.But oh, I have enjoyed myself so much," and again came the little sigh.

  Sir Philip's eyes expressed the sympathy he felt, but he dared notventure on any more questions.

  "I may meet you at some other dance before long, I hope?" was the utmosthe risked.

  "It is not likely," she replied. "I am no--" and she hesitated.

  "Not remaining long in this part of the world?"

  "No--not that. I was only going to say I am not supposed to be _out_,"she said with evident reluctance.

  "And yet she is visiting in some house in the neighbourhood evidentlywithout any of her own family," thought Philip, more and more_intrigue_, and in his own mind he was considering what observationleading to further revelations he might hazard when he was startled by asudden move on his partner's side.

  "I must go now; please don't think me rude," she exclaimed hurriedly,and before he had time fully to take in the sense of her words she hadgone.

  "I _will_ find out where and with whom she is staying," he said tohimself, starting forward to follow her, when a hand was laid on hisarm, and turning, he saw his cousin Ermine.

  "Where have you been hiding yourself all this time?" she said smiling."Are you not going to ask me to dance to-night?"

  "Of course, of course, if you care to," Philip replied. But his mannerwas confused and hurried. It was evident he did not want to bedetained. "I'll be back in two minutes, Ermine," he said, "but excuseme for an instant. Some friends of mine are just leaving, and I want--Ijust have a word to say to them before they go."

  "But I must speak to you for a moment," said Ermine persistently. "Didyou not know your grandmother has been here?"

  "My grandmother!" ejaculated Sir Philip, so astonished as to forget foran instant his determination to discover some particulars about themysterious Miss Wyndham, and if possible obtain a glimpse of thechaperone she had alluded to.

  "Yes, of course. Aunt Anna--Lady Cheynes. Why do you look soincredulous?" Ermine went on.

  "It seems so queer. What in the world put such a thing in her head, andwhy wasn't I told? She will be very vexed at my not having gone nearher," he said with considerable annoyance in his tone.

  "Not at all. She had not in the least expected to find you here. Shehad no reason to do so--you know you meant to give her a surprise bywalking in to-morrow morning. She told me to tell you she knew you weredancing and she didn't want to interrupt you."

  "All the same, I wish I had known," Sir Philip persisted. "I can't getover the idea of her having been here and my not knowing."

  "She didn't stay long," said his cousin. "She was sitting in the smalldrawing-room all the time, and I _assure_ you she wasn't in the least,not the very least, vexed at not seeing you. She's expecting you hometo-morrow."

  "It was such an odd fancy of hers to come," Philip repeated. "Why--it'syears since I knew her go to anything of the kind. Are you sure she'sgone, Ermie? May she not be still in the cloak-room, perhaps?"

  "No, I'm sure she's gone. I wish you'd believe what I say," saidErmine, looking slightly irritated by his pertinacity.

  "Oh, well, I suppose it's all right. But I shall be too late for theother friend I wanted to say good-night to. Excuse me, Ermie--I'll beback in two minutes," and before his cousin could think of any furtherexcuse for detaining him he was gone.

  "It will be too provoking," thought she, "if he goes running againstthem just as they're leaving. I wonder who it is he wants to saygood-bye to." Philip hastened as fast as he could to the hall--a sharprush of cold air told that the door was open, and as he got up to it thesound of wheels announced that some one had just driven away.

  "Whose carriage was that?" he inquired of one of the servants standingabout. The man was a stranger and did not recognise him.

  "Lady Cheynes's," he replied. "It was the Cheynesacre carriage, sir."

  With a muttered exclamation of annoyance Philip drew back. He glancedinto the cloak-room as he passed--it was quite deserted, no one elseseemed to be taking their departure just then. He strolled forwardagain towards the door, and pushing it open, stepped out on to thedrive. Yes, it was a very cold night, much too cold for keeping horseswaiting, in consequence of which, no doubt, no horses or carriages wereto be seen.

  "She must
have gone," thought the young man. "But who in the world isshe, and whom can she have come with? Louis Belvoir knows no more thanI do, and I don't want to make myself conspicuous by asking any oneelse."

  He turned back, but just as he was stepping inside the porch, somethingglistening on the ground caught his eye.

  "By Jove!" Philip ejaculated, "can it be one of my lady's diamond pins?What a joke it would be--for she always maintains that she never