'Pardon me, I did not mean that,' said he. 'I know; but that which seems to haunt me at times may exist; the world is full of mystery, and so is all nature. We know not how even a seed takes root, or a blade of grass springs from the earth.' 'Ida, this is the cant of the spiritualists!' urged Trevor Chute; 'do not adopt it. What would Sir Carnaby think of such a theme?' She slightly shrugged her shoulders, and with a little laugh said: 'Papa's views of life are very different from mine, and his ideas of the superiority of mind over matter must be vague, if, indeed, he has any views on the subject at all. Do you go to the Continent alone?' 'No, Jerry Vane proposes to accompany me.' 'Also leaving London in the height of the season!' 'His reasons are nearly the same as mine,' replied Chute. 'Have you any message to him?' 'None,' said she, colouring and looking down. 'None,' repeated Chute, in a half-reproachful tone. 'Save my kindest wishes. You know, Trevor, that I used Jerry very ill; I am well aware of that, but it is too late now to--to----' She paused in confusion, and then said, 'Poor Jerry, I pity him with unspeakable pity.' 'I would that he heard you,' said Chute, caressing her pretty hand. 'Why?' 'Does not Dryden tell us that pity melts the mind to love?' 'Do not repeat the admission I have made,' said Ida, as a shade of annoyance crossed her pallid face, adding firmly, 'Let him have no false hopes; my heart has a great tenderness, but no such love as he wishes, for him.' 'And now farewell, Ida, for a long time.' 'A pleasant journey to you,' said she, and tears started to her eyes, as he bowed himself out of her boudoir. 'Thanks--to-night may see me in Paris.' CHAPTER IX. DOUBTS DISPELLED. 'In Paris to-night?' said a voice that thrilled him, and he found himself face to face with Clare, who unexpectedly, and somewhat to her own confusion, appeared at the drawing-room door. 'I knew not that you were at home,' replied Chute, with some coldness of manner, as the memories of last night occurred to him, and he too became confused as he added, 'I meant to have left a farewell card for Sir Carnaby.' Mechanically they entered the drawing-room. For reasons of her own, Ida did not follow them, and feeling full of the awkwardness of the situation, Trevor Chute lingered, hat in hand, and Clare, amid the tremor and tumult of her thoughts, forgot to offer him a seat. She was provoked now that she had yielded to Ida's urgency, and written personally to Chute. Yet wherefore, or why? She had loved him in the past time, and loved him still, as she whispered in her heart; and felt sure that he loved her; and yet--and yet she thought now that letter should have been written by Ida, not her, if written at all. 'I hope you enjoyed your evening with papa at the club,' she said; with polite frigidity of manner. 'Far from it,' said he abruptly, as he felt piqued thereby. 'Indeed!' 'I can scarcely tell you why.'