A flash of new expression changed the girl's face at once. Not remarkable--with those great dark eyes, and the lovely color coming and going in the oval cheeks! Enid confessed her mistake to herself frankly. The girl was remarkably handsome--it was a fact that could not be gainsaid. Enid looked at her gravely, with a little feeling of repulsion which she found it difficult to help. "Will you come in?" said Cynthia. "Mr. Lepel is in his room; but he means to get up this afternoon. If you will kindly wait for a few moments in his sitting-room, I am sure that he will be with you before long. I will speak to his man Jenkins." She had ushered Enid into Hubert's front room, from which the untidiness had disappeared. His artistic properties were displayed to great advantage, and every vase was filled with flowers. It was plain that a woman's hand had been at work. Enid glanced around her with curiosity. Cynthia pushed a chair towards her, and waited until the visitor had seated herself. Then, repeating the words, "I will speak to his man Jenkins," she prepared to leave the room. Enid rose from her chair. "You are Miss West," she said--"Cynthia West?" "Cynthia Westwood," replied the girl, and looked sorrowfully yet proudly into Enid's eyes. Her face was flushed, but Enid's had turned pale. "Will you stay and speak to me for a minute or two? I see that you were going out----" "It does not matter; I need not go," said Cynthia, removing her hat and laying it carelessly on one of the tables. "If you want to speak to me----" Neither of them concluded her sentence. Each was conscious of great embarrassment. For once in her life, Cynthia stood like a culprit; for she thought that Enid loved Hubert Lepel, and that she--Cynthia--had withdrawn him from his allegiance. It was Enid who broke the silence. "I wanted to see you," she said. "I came to see you more than to see Hubert. I heard you were here." Cynthia looked up quickly. "You heard Mrs. Vane's opinion of me, I suppose?" It was bitterly spoken. "My uncle told me--not Mrs. Vane," said Enid. "I should not believe a thing just because Mrs. Vane said it--nor my uncle, for his opinions all come from Mrs. Vane." Her expressions were somewhat vague; but her meaning was clear. Cynthia flashed a grateful glance at her. "You mean," she said, holding her graceful head a trifle higher than usual, "that you do not think that I am unwomanly--that I have disgraced myself--because I came here to nurse Mr. Lepel in his illness?" "No! I should have done the same in your place--if I loved a man." The color mounted to the roots of Cynthia's hair. "You know that?" she said quickly. "That I--I love him, I mean? There is no use in denying it--I do. There is no harm in it. I shall not hurt him by loving him--as I shall love him--to the last day of my life."