the prettiest public fêtes in london are those given in the gardens of the botanical society in the regent's park. there is to be found plenty of fresh green turf; there are myriads of lovely flowers blooming in open beds, or tastefully arranged beneath the marquees; there are solemn old big trees stretching out their umbrageous arms, and in their majesty making one think even less favourably than usual of the perky straggling sticks at south kensington; there are the bands of two or three guards regiments, having sufficient compassion on the visitors to play one after the other, and not, as in some places, at the same time; and there is generally a collection of the nicest-looking people in town. there are few savans, and not much literary or artistic talent; but as savans and the professors of literary and artistic talent are for the most part any thing but nice-looking, and as flirtation is the science to which at these gatherings attention is principally devoted, their loss is not felt; indeed it may be safely said that the general company is happier for their absence.

although the last fête of the season is scarcely to be compared to its immediate predecessor, the warm weather of the two preceding days had done very much in contributing to its gaiety on the first occasion when mr. charles yeldham found himself making holiday from his work, and taking part in a grand ceremony of nothing-doing with those whose lives were passed in never doing any thing; and, like most men who rarely emerge from the business of their lives to seek a temporary respite from perpetual work in a few brief hours of enjoyment, charley was determined to make the most of his time, and to reap the full value of those precious hours which he had grudgingly given up. with his chum leaning on his arm, he made his way through the fruit-tent and the flower-tent, round the american garden, where the glorious azalias, so lately a mass of magnificent beauty, now stood bare and drooping; now attracting the attention of a group of faded dowagers by his energy and volubility; anon pausing in rapt attention, listening to the strains of the melody-breathing "sonnambula," as performed by the grenadiers, or nodding head and beating hand in sufficiently ill-kept time to a whirlwind galop rattled through by the band of the artillery. into his holiday, as into his work, charley had thrown his whole heart; he had determined to shut out temporarily all thoughts of attorneys, pleas, work, and worry, and he went in for the pleasures of the day with an eagerness and an impetuosity that perfectly astonished his companion.

"i'll tell you what it is, charley," said gordon frere, after they had careered round the gardens, and were standing once more by the gate at which they had entered--"i'll tell you what it is; you're like a country cousin, by jove! or one of those horrible fellows that come up to town with a letter of introduction. you want to see every thing, and all at once. it's a deuced good thing that you don't often give yourself an outing, or you'd be wanting me to take you to the thames tunnel, and the monument, and madame tussaud's, and all sorts of wonderful places. here have we been rushing about from pillar to post, or rather from tent to tent, and from band to band, and you've never yet given me breathing-time to look round and speak to any of the people i know. now you really must hold on for a moment, for it's just upon three o'clock, and that's the time that kate--miss guyon, i mean--said she should be here; and i promised to be near the entrance, to join her at once."

he spoke with animation, and his bright eyes glowed with fire as he seized his old friend by the shoulders and used a feigned force to arrest his progress. you see mr. gordon frere was brimming over with happiness. to be six-and-twenty years of age; to be good-looking; to have high animal spirits; to have indulgent tradespeople, and a tolerable sufficiency of pocket-money; to be in love with a very charming girl, and to have your passion returned, are all things calculated to make a man content with life, and disposed to regard human nature from its best point of view. he was pleased to speak of himself as a "creature of impulse," and, by some accident probably, he rightly described himself. whatever best pleased him for the time being he took up and went in for earnestly and vigorously. he had done so all his life, in cricketing, rowing, riding, at school and college--actually once in reading, when he studied so hard and to so much purpose apparently, that old mr. yeldham wrote to charles, anticipating for his son's chum and his own pupil the highest university honours; but gordon slacked off, and when the class-list came out, a double-third was all the position awarded him. up to this time the "impulse" had not been shown very strongly in any love-affairs: he had had his ball-room flirtations, involving bouquet-sending, rotten-row riding, opera-box haunting, &c., as all men have; but he had never--to charles yeldham's idea at least--been so really smitten with any one as he announced himself to be with miss guyon. so his honest old chum, albeit he had his own views of the probable reception of gordon's proposal by mr. guyon, could not find it in his heart to check him, and only smiled pleasantly as he said:

"all right, gordon; all right, my boy. but you talk of my taking you about here and there, as though i were not a mere child in leading-strings in such a place as this, to be shown each separate sight in the proper order. now we've seen the fruit and the flowers, and listened to the bands, let us take a look at the people. tremendous, what you call 'swells,' are they not? no end of crinoline, and flowers, and finery. by jove! just turn a few of these young ladies to walk through the temple gardens, and there would not be much work done that day. every clerk's nose would be glued to the window; and i verily believe that even old farrar, our underneath neighbour, would leave his books and his papers for such a refreshing sight. now there's one,--look there! that tall girl just coming in, with--hallo! steady, young 'un; what's the matter?"

charley yeldham might well cry "steady;" for gordon gave a visible start as he turned in the direction indicated by his friend; and his tone was thick and hurried as he said, "that's miss guyon and her father--and--who the devil's that man with them?"

"now that's a curious thing," said yeldham with provoking placidity. "i don't suppose i know another soul in all this large gathering; but i do know that man intimately, and i can tell you who he is. that's robert streightley, the city man, that you've so often heard me speak of, and--but what has come to him? talk of 'swells,' why, i should scarcely have recognised bob sobersides, as they used to call him, in that costume. and so that is miss guyon, is it? that's miss guyon i say, young 'un, she's--she's wonderfully lovely."

"for god's sake, don't stand staring there with your mouth open, charley; but let us go up and speak to these people. they've seen us already;" and mr. frere, passing his arm through his friend's, led him up to the group, and after making his own salutations, freely presented him to miss guyon and her father. immediately after his introduction, yeldham turned and shook hands with robert streightley; and after a few words of astonishment from each at meeting the other in such a place, they commenced a conversation, in which mr. guyon took part, leaving gordon frere and katharine walking together a little in advance of them.

there are few things more embarrassing than having something very particular to say, knowing that you will have great difficulty in saying it, and being perfectly convinced that if ever it is to be said at all, the exact time has arrived. this was gordon frere's position. he knew that the end of the season had arrived; that another fortnight would see miss guyon flown, with the rest of the fashionable world, to some english sea-board, foreign watering-place, or country-house, whither he could not have the remotest excuse for following her; he knew the proverbial danger of delay, especially in love-affairs; he fully shared in charley yeldham's only half-expressed doubts as to the reception of his proposal by mr. guyon, and in the sudden and unexpected appearance upon the scene of robert streightley whom he had never met before, but of whom, his wealth, his talents, his city position, he had heard frequently from charley--he saw a new and important element of danger. if he intended to make his coup for the winning of this peerless beauty, now was the time. so he screwed up his courage and began.

"you are a little late, miss guyon,"--this in a low, deep, tremulous voice; "you said you would be here at three."

"you don't pretend to say that you recollect any thing i said about it, mr. frere?" in the same tone. "i scarcely remembered we had touched upon the subject."

"don't you pretend to imagine any such thing so far as i am concerned, miss guyon. no, no; pardon me for one instant; you know that whatever concerns you, in however trifling a degree,--and more especially when it relates to the chance of my seeing you,--is always of importance to me."

he had bent his gaze upon her, as he said this, and he received a faint fluttering glance as his first reply. then she said,

"i was scarcely conceited enough to think so, and--and of course i feel the compliment. however, we have met, you see."

"yes; and so long as that has come about, no matter how late you are; for you see i still hold to my original opinion. however late or early, i must be doubly thankful for the chances of meeting you now. for the season's at an end, and i suppose you will be off with the rest?"

"i suppose so; though nothing is settled, i believe."

"and where do you go?"

"papa talked of scarborough some time ago. he has not said any thing about it lately; and as i am wholly indifferent on the subject, i'm very good to him, and let him have his own way."

"are you similarly complaisant to mr. guyon in all things?"

there must have been something special in the tone of his voice; for she looked up quickly with a slight flush, and said,

"in all matters in which i take no particular interest. where i am concerned i am exigeante, and--i am afraid--stubborn."

"let us call it 'firm,' miss guyon," said frere, with a slight smile. "firmness is a quality by no means reprehensible, even when exercised towards one's father. it's a horrible thing this break-up of the season, especially as one gets older. all the little pleasant--well, i suppose i may call them friendships--are nipped in the bud until next april, when one has to begin again and struggle on until august, when we find ourselves in exactly the same position in which we were a twelvemonth before."

"that is, unless we take up with a different set of friends," said katharine; "and i believe there are instances on record of such a change."

gordon frere looked at her again, and threw an additional warmth into his voice as he said, "granted that fidelity is uncommon, miss guyon, it should be the more prized when it is found. you are going to-night to mrs. tresillian's?"

"yes; lady henmarsh has promised to take me. it is almost my 'last rose of summer;' positively the last of our ball-engagements this season."

"let us trust it will be one of the pleasantest. you will come early, and you will give me the first valse, and as many afterwards as you can."

"i--i shall be very happy; but we shall leave early. papa has a holy horror of having his horses kept out late, more especially when he is not present; and he will not be there to-night, i think; for he's going to ask mr. streightley to dine with us, and i believe he wants to talk business to him afterwards."

"mr. streightley going to dine with you! by the way, who is mr. streightley?"

"mr. streightley? he's a horror--i didn't mean that. he's a city friend of papa's, and, as i'm told, a very rich man."

"very rich, and in the city, eh!" said gordon frere, looking over his shoulder at the object of their remark. "he's better got up than most of his genus. i think i could swear to poole in his coat. very rich, and you've been told so, miss guyon! he's a lucky man."

"is he, mr. frere? you'll excuse my saying that i don't follow you; that i don't know why mr. streightley is lucky."

"did you not yourself say that he was very rich, miss guyon, and that you had been told so?" said gordon, with more warmth than he had previously exhibited. "society acts as this gentleman's avant-coureur, and repeats his claim to respect wherever he goes; and of course he finds people prepared to proffer him ready-made honour."

the bitterness in his tone jarred on kate's ear. his face was averted, so that there was no need for her to restrain the half-inquiring, half-loving gaze with which she looked up at him as she said,

"i never knew you cynical before, mr. frere, and i don't think the mood becomes you. surely the notion that wealth is the most desirable of all possessions is utterly exploded. for my own part, i think that riches in a man--i mean when they are so great as to be talked about--are something against him; something to be got over, like his being black, or having a hump-back."

"this is a very refreshing doctrine, miss guyon; but i'm afraid it has not many disciples; and even you would lean to the side of the modest competence and----"

"i would lean to nothing; i would give way to nothing so palpably sordid and base."

"you are strangely in earnest on this point, miss guyon."

"i am thoroughly in earnest about it; and i----"

"you cannot tell with what delight i hear it, miss guyon. i--you have removed a certain distrust which has prevented me from----"

"as you say"--broke in the strident voice of mr. guyon, as he with streightley and yeldham "formed up in line"--"in a formal dinner-party you may sit side by side with people and never know any more about them than if they were at opposite ends of the table. you're quite right, streightley, quite right. but to-night we're quite alone. katharine, my dear, mr. streightley has promised to take us as he finds us, and come home to dinner to-day."

miss guyon bowed, and murmured her delight. then said sotto voce, "it is mrs. tresillian's night, papa, you recollect; and lady henmarsh is coming to fetch me."

"o yes, my dear; of course, of course. lady henmarsh coming, eh! but that won't make any difference."

"no, papa; only you won't mind my running away."

"of course not, my dear; of course not, and how is my young friend gordon frere? blooming as usual. no need to ask that. give your arm to an old boy, gordon; and trot him round, and show him all the--the beauty of the day."

gordon, who was eminently disgusted at the interruption of his conversation with kate, and who was showing his feelings in his knitted brow and puckered mouth, had any hopes of a further causerie which he might have entertained dashed to the ground by mr. guyon, who passed his delicate lavender-glove through his young friend's arm and led him off in triumph, while streightley and yeldham followed on either side of miss guyon.

few men could make themselves pleasanter companions than ned guyon when he was so inclined. he had not merely a capital flow of animal spirits, a store of what in women is called small-talk, but what in men may better be described as broad talk, a keen perception of the ludicrous, and a sufficient power of satire, but he had the great knack--learned in his long experience of life--of exactly suiting his conversation to his audience. he possessed in perfection the slang of the clubs, which nowadays passes current for what is called "swell talk," and which is not merely a peculiar argot with special words meaning special things, with excised pronouns and abbreviated nouns, but which, to be perfect, must be spoken in a voice specially pitched for the purpose. the voice and the language none had studied better than guyon; there were few men of his age, indeed, who had taken the trouble to master either; but in the fashionable sinner's worldly experience he had found the greatest profit in keeping himself au courant with the ways and manners of men of the rising generation. once let any of them perceive that he was a fogey, in the least antiquated in his ideas or pursuits, and all hope of influence over them was gone; but so long as he could take a leading part in their follies, and blend undoubted past experience with apparent present enjoyment, their houses, horses, purses were at his disposal; and it was considered rather an honour among the subalterns of the rag or the plungers from aldershott to have dropped their money at écarté or baccarat to such a cool clever hand as mr. guyon.

perhaps the old diplomatist had never been in better force than on the present occasion, although there was apparently little opportunity for the exercise of his powers. frere, distrait, if not savage, at starting, found himself first listening to his companion's remarks; then laughing at his stories; finally answering him, and leading him on to further banter. with a fair proportion of the company present mr. guyon had some acquaintance, and of nearly every body who was any body he had some racy anecdote to whisper laughingly into his companion's ear. it did not strike frere until long afterwards that all these piquant stories were indebted for their piquancy to a half-sneering cynicism, a half-avowed libertinism; that in all the broad principles of honour were ridiculed, and the scampish shifts of so-called "gallantry" exalted; that the whole conversation, in fact, was such as might have been expected from a blasé youth or a battered rake, but scarcely to be looked for in a gentleman whose marriageable daughter was walking within a few feet of him.

they remained in the gardens until past six o'clock, promenading, visiting the tents, stopping to speak to friends; but never on any occasion had gordon frere another chance of approaching miss guyon. he made several attempts; but invariably her father had something to say to her--or to him--and cut in between them with the pleasantest smile and the cheeriest remarks possible. it was not until just as they were getting into the carriage that mr. guyon suddenly turned aside, and saying, "ah, by the way!" took out a card, wrote on it in pencil, in his airiest manner borrowed an envelope from the ticket-taker standing at his desk in the entrance, and despatched it by a commissionaire who was in waiting. in that short interval gordon frere managed to slip round to miss guyon's side and whisper, "the first valse, to-night?" and to receive in reply an almost imperceptible acquiescence in the glance of her eyes and the bending of her head. then mr. guyon, wheeling round, took a very affectionate leave of gordon, and made a polite bow to charles yeldham, handed his daughter into the carriage, motioned to streightley to follow her; and finally jumping lightly in himself, they were whirled off, with much door-slamming and horse-pawing.

the concluding episode of the little drama in which he had asserted his position with miss guyon had reanimated gordon frere, and rendered him happy and amiable. "such a lord is love, and beauty such a mistress of the world." so he turned cheerily to yeldham, on whom he had not bestowed so much as a glance or a thought for the past two hours, and gripping his arm, said:

"well, old boy, and what do you think of her?"

mr. charles yeldham was seldom absent or preoccupied: he was far too practical for that. but on the present occasion his thoughts must have been engaged, for he started, with something like a flush on his cheeks, as he said:

"who? what, gordon? i wasn't attending, i fear."

"i was asking you what you thought of miss guyon, charley?"

"she is wonderfully beautiful."

"well said, old fellow. quite enthusiastic, by jove!--for you, at all events. but what i mean is, seriously, is not she something to be proud of; something different from the ruck of grinning, simpering, yea-nay girls one meets about--in such places as that we've just left, for instance?"

"she is, indeed."

"i hope you talked to her. not that i think--no offence to you, old fellow--not that perhaps your talk would be exactly suited to her--too deep, you know, and all that kind of thing--but still you would be able to make out that she had a head on her shoulders. doesn't she talk well?"

"well, to tell truth, i had not much opportunity of judging, for she remained tolerably silent; and the conversation--such as it was--was between robert streightley and myself."

"o, by the way, that fellow streightley,--i've heard you speak of him. who is he, and what's all about him? what the deuce did old guyon bring him here for? and why has he gone home with them to dinner?"

"ha, ha!" laughed charles yeldham. "'beware, my lord, of jealousy!' here's an othello for you! i don't think, gordon, you need look with much suspicion on robert streightley, unless you've fixed your affections on good investments or early information; and then you would stand no chance with him, i can tell you. but he's been too long engaged to capel court to waver in his allegiance."

"but what on earth brought him here?"

"what? who? you should ask, and i would answer, your intended father-in-law. there's no man with a clearer head for business: what will be more explanatory, i will say there's no man better able to put a friend on to 'a good thing' than streightley; and i fancy mr. guyon would not be above a little stagging if he could act on streightley's information."

"but people don't get city information or talk to each other on what you call 'stagging' topics at botanical fêtes. why did he bring him here?"

"o impetuous youth, 'still harping on my daughter!' don't you see that there must be a quid pro quo? if mr. streightley is to assist mr. guyon, why should not mr. guyon show mr. streightley the elevated position which he holds, the society in which he moves?"

"yes, that's all very well; but i say, charley, streightley don't know mrs. tresillian, does he?"

"who's mrs. tresillian?"

"the wife of the member for penmouth; people who live at rutland gate, and entertain perpetually. he's not likely to be going there to-night, this streightley, is he?"

"no more than he's likely to be going to kamschatka; not so likely. why?"

"o, nothing; only miss guyon is going there--and so am i."

"is miss guyon going? ah, well, i hope you'll enjoy yourself."

and during their ride to chambers in the hansom, both men were singularly silent.

mr. streightley had plenty of time to make himself acquainted with the features of the private friends and the public celebrities who were enshrined in miss guyon's photographic album; with the views of the rhine and the moselle; with the cards of callers "lurking within the bowl;" with the tastefully-arranged flowers and their elegant basket; with the paper-knife, like a golden dagger; with gustave doré's latest sketches; and with all the innumerable nicknacks of a lady's table. miss guyon had gone straight to her room; and mr. guyon, begging to be excused, as he had a few little matters of business, had retired into what he called his "study,"--a very gloomy little den behind the dining-room, furnished with a battered leather writing-table, a cane-bottomed chair, a grim bust of a deceased friend powdered with "blacks," a boot-jack, a clothes-brush, a glass-case of stuffed birds, and the court guide for 1850. streightley had been shown, at mr. guyon's suggestion, into a spare bedroom, where he had performed a brief toilet, and then mooned about the drawing-room, occupying himself in the manner just described. mr. guyon was the first to break in on his solitude; and shortly afterwards miss guyon entered the room, looking so lovely that robert streightley remained spell-bound, and could not take his eyes from her. she wore a pale mauve-silk dress, with soft tulle half-way over it, looped up with real cape jasmine, a tiny bouquet of the same flower in her bosom; and her hair gave her a certain air of peculiarity, and shed around her a subtle and intoxicating perfume. round her neck she wore a string of pearls with a diamond clasp; and the same on each arm completed her jewelry. looking at her, robert streightley seemed to lose his identity, and to become part and portion of some fairy story which he had read, some picture of moyen-age pageant which he had seen. women? yes, he had known women before--his mother, ellen, hester gould. what had they in common with this soft, delicate, queenly creature, the touch of whose hand on his arm thrilled him to the bone, the sound of whose voice sent the blood rushing to his heart, the glance of whose eye--light, fleeting, and uninterested though it was--he would have purchased at the price of a king's ransom.

the dinner was good, and mr. guyon was gay; but neither succulent dishes nor brilliant sallies had much effect on robert streightley. they were scarcely seated before he learned, from a chance observation uttered by miss guyon, that she was going to mrs. tresillian's ball; and the knowledge that gordon frere would probably meet her there--a fact which he divined intuitively--weighed heavily on streightley's mind. he tried to exert himself to respond to his host; he tried to talk lightly and pleasantly to kate, who seemed in the highest spirits, but all unsuccessfully. whenever there was a lull in the conversation, he fancied her in frere's arms being whirled round the room, or listening to his low voice with such a pleased expression on her face as he had seen there that night in the opera-box. those bright eyes, that flow of spirits, that general happiness, which even prompted her to be far more agreeable to him and far more recognisant of his presence than she had yet ever deigned to be, were not they all due to the fact that she was going to meet his--well, why not?--his rival? as he was thinking thus the servant entered the room bearing a letter, which miss guyon read, opened, and flung on the table with an air of vexation, that contrasted strongly with her recent good-temper.

"it's too bad!" she cried in a petulant voice; "too bad and i don't believe a word of it."

"what's the matter, kate, my child!" asked mr. guyon in his blandest tones.

"after dressing myself, and setting my heart upon it--the last ball of the season too--it's--it's most horribly annoying!" and miss guyon bit her lip very hard, and threw back her head to stop her tears.

"my dear kate," said mr. guyon, looking like a modern edition of lucius junius brutus, "you seem to forget that, besides your father, there is present a gentleman who--no, pardon me, my dear streightley, allow me to speak--who should be--hem!--thought of. what--if i may again be allowed to put the question,--what is there in that note that can have so very much discomposed you?"

"i beg your pardon, mr. streightley--i--but it is so annoying! here's lady henmarsh, papa, writes to say she cannot go to mrs. tresillian's to-night. she's got one of her headaches--those horrible headaches that i don't believe in one bit--and she knows i was looking forward to her taking me, and that it will be impossible for me to go without her. it is so vexing!"

mr. guyon was about firing off an elaborate remark; but hearing streightley commencing to speak, he stopped himself, and waved his hand towards his friend.

"i was--eh, you're very kind--no, i was only going to say," said streightley, with a hesitation which was quite strange to him, "that i'm sure i sympathise with you, miss guyon--sympathise with you thoroughly. it is very annoying to be balked in any thing that we've--set our minds on, as i may say. but what i was going to say was--i don't know about these kind of things, of course, as you know, mr. guyon, and no doubt you too, miss guyon; but could not your papa, miss guyon,--could not your papa be your escort to this ball?"

it was a really grateful glance that kate shot at him as she said, "o, thank you so very much for the suggestion, mr. streightley. of course he could. papa, do you hear?"

"i do, my dear. i hear mr. streightley's suggestion, which is exactly in accord with that--that--high-mindedness and--and suggestiveness for which i've always given him credit. but unfortunately it's impossible, kate; perfectly impossible to-night. i have some documents in there," jerking his head towards the den behind, "the perusal of which will occupy me until--ah, daybreak."

miss guyon said not another word, but rose from the table as her father ceased speaking. she wished mr. streightley "good-night," and after a moment's hesitation gave him her hand; she kissed mr. guyon's forehead--the little space which was not covered with his carefully-poodled hair--with her lips, and left the room. but as she passed the glass, streightley caught a glimpse of the reflection of her face, and saw that every nerve in it was quivering with repressed passion. he knew the reason well enough, and it did not tend to raise his already-drooping spirits; so he shortly afterwards took his leave and went home, where he found his sister ellen waiting up for him to tell him that hester gould had been spending the evening with her, having previously been to the botanical fête, where she had seen the beautiful miss guyon.

"and you were walking with her, hester says, robert," said miss ellen; "she saw you, though you didn't see her. how i should like to see her, robert! now tell me all about her. is she so beautiful? and is she going to be married?"

"my dear child," said robert in rather a harsh tone, "do you imagine i tell you the names of a tithe of the people i know in business? mr. guyon is a business acquaintance of mine; and i have been introduced to his daughter. so far as i am a judge, she is very beautiful; but really though i have seen her a few times, she has not yet confided to me whether she is going to be married or not."

on the receipt of which short answer, miss ellen streightley, telling her brother "he need not snap her head off," handed him his candle and went to bed.

mr. guyon had said that the "perusal" of certain "documents" would occupy him until daybreak; but long before the first faint thread of dawn appeared in the eastern sky that gentleman was sleeping the sleep of the just, having immediately after streightley's departure slipped down to his club, and returned lighter in heart and heavier in purse after playing a few rubbers with consummate skill and great luck. but gleaming on certain characters in this veracious history, the first rays of the rising sun found them defiant of sleep, if not actively engaged. found katharine guyon with her dark hair streaming over her pillow, bedewed with tears of rage and disappointment, and her eyes, under their swollen lids, bright and staring; found robert streightley, racked with sharp pangs of jealousy and doubt, vainly courting repose; found gordon frere lounging homeward up piccadilly, his hands plunged in his trousers-pockets, his opera-hat hanging listlessly on the back of his head, a cigar in his mouth, and a faded flower in his coat, chafing bitterly against the absence of his heart's idol from mrs. tresillian's ball, and at the postponement of the love-avowal which he had determined to make; finally, found charles yeldham, bright, fresh, and glowing from his morning bath, just settling down to his desk, with his mind filled partly with thoughts of the work he was about to commence, partly with reminiscences of a queenly figure, a stately walk, and a bright pair of eyes, seen yesterday for the first time.