"God bless you dear!" she said. "I am so happy myself that I cannot bear you and Cynthia to be unhappy. Will you tell her when she comes in that I want you to marry her as soon as possible? She is so good, so noble, that I am sure you will be happy with her. And you can go abroad together if you are married soon. Good-bye Hubert! We shall always think of each other lovingly, shall we not?" "I shall think of you--gratefully," he said, with his face bowed down upon his hands--"as of an angel from heaven!" "Oh, no--only as a poor, weak, erring little girl, who broke her word to you and had far more happiness than she deserved. And now good-bye." He would have detained her--perhaps to say more words of gratitude--perhaps to say something else; but she withdrew herself from his clasping hand and quietly left the room. She knew that he was better alone. She went down-stairs, let herself out of the house, and met Cynthia on the steps. The girl was just returning after a hurried walk round and round the square. "Go to him," said Enid softly. "He wants help and comfort, and he wants your love. You will be very happy by-and-by." And Cynthia went. CHAPTER XLVII. Cynthia came softly into the room. She looked timidly towards Hubert's chair, then rushed forward and rang the bell violently. She had had some fear of the result of Enid's visit, and her fear was certainly justified. Hubert had fainted away when his visitor had left the room. It was not until some time afterwards that Cynthia allowed him to talk again. She had medicaments of various kinds to apply, and insisted upon his being perfectly quiet. She had wanted him to go to bed again; but he had resisted this proposition; and, in consequence, he was still in the sitting-room, though lying upon the sofa, at the hour of half-past eight that evening, when the light was fading, and Cynthia was at his side. "You feel better now, do you not?" she said to him. "Yes, thank you." The tone was curiously dispirited. "I must call Jenkins, and you must go to bed." He caught her hand. "Not yet, Cynthia--I want to say something." "To-morrow," she suggested. "No, not to-morrow--to-night. I am quite well able to talk. Cynthia, where is your father?" The question was utterly unexpected. "My father?" she echoed. "Why do you want to know?" "Because I have an impression that he is in England, and that you have seen him lately." "If I had," said Cynthia tremulously, "I should be bound not to tell any one." "Ah, that is true! And you would not trust even me," he remarked, with a great sigh. "Well, I suppose that you are right!" "I trust you perfectly," she said. "You have no reason to do so. Cynthia, do you know why Enid Vane came to-day?" "Yes,--she told me." "She is engaged to Mr. Evandale. She has set me free." There was a silence. Cynthia did not move; and at last Hubert said, in a stifled voice-- "I love one woman, and one only. What can I say to her?"