On entering the drawing-room, which was brilliantly lighted, he saw Ida within an arched and curtained alcove that opened out of it; the blue silk hangings were festooned on each side by silver tassels and cords. The recess was thus partly in shadow, and, within, Ida reclined on a couch, near which lay a book, that had apparently dropped from her hand. Her attitude, expressive of great excitement or of great grief, made Vane pause for a moment. Her figure was in shadow, but her lovely auburn hair glittered in light as she lay back on the couch, with her white hands covering her eyes, pressing, to all appearance, hard upon them, while heavy sobs convulsed her bosom and throat. Vane was about to approach and question her as to this excessive grief, when his blood ran cold on perceiving the figure of a gentleman bending tenderly and caressingly over her--the man of the arbour. His form was in shadow, but his face was most distinct; it was handsome in contour, though very pale; his eyes, that were cast fondly down on Ida, were dark, as Vane could perceive, and his thick moustache was jetty in hue. What could he have to say to Ida that agitated her thus? And who was this stranger who seemed to avail himself of every conceivable moment she was alone to thrust himself upon her?--if, indeed, he were not, as Jerry's jealousy began to hint, but too welcome! How many times had he been with her, unknown to all? was the next bitter thought that flashed upon him. He resolved to bring Chute to the spot, for Chute had never believed the stories of Ida and her mysterious friend or admirer; so, instead of boldly advancing and intruding upon them, he softly quitted the room, and met the Captain in the entrance hall. 'Where is Clare?' he asked. 'Gone to take off her wraps,' replied Chute. 'Quick!' said Jerry, in an agitated voice; 'come this way.' 'What is the matter?' 'You shall see. The honour--oh, that I should speak of it!--the honour of Ida is dearer to me than life,' said Vane, in a voice which indicated great mental pain; 'yet what am I to think, unless her brain is turned?' He leaned for a moment against a console table, as if a giddiness or a weakness had come over him. 'Jerry, are you unwell?' asked Chute, anxiously. 'I don't know what the devil is up, or whether Ida--with her face lovely as it is, and pure as that of a saint in some old cathedral window--is playing false to me and to us all!' 'False!' exclaimed Chute, astonished by this outburst, which was made with great bitterness. 'Yes, false.' 'Ida--why--how?' 'Because that mysterious fellow is with her now.' 'Where?' 'In the arched alcove off the drawing-room. I know not what he has been saying to her, but the effect of his presence is to fill her with grief and agitation; these are manifest enough, whatever may be the secret tie or sympathy between them.' They were for the present alone, Chute and Vane.