“I hope I have bound that old fool in heavy recognisances to keep her tongue quiet; and now for the more difficult task of the young ones,” said he, as he stretched himself full length in the boat, like one wearied by some effort that taxed his strength. “I begin to believe it will be a relief to me to get away from this place!” he muttered to himself, “though I’d give my right hand to pass the next week here, and spoil the happiness of those fond lovers. Could I not do it?” Here was a problem that occupied him till he reached the landing at the villa, but as he stepped on shore, he cried, “No, this must be the last time I shall ever mount these steps!” Calvert passed the day in his room; he had much to think over, and several letters to write. Though the next step he was to take in life in all probability involved his whole future career, his mind was diverted from it by the thought that this was to be his last night at the villa--the last time he should ever see Florence. “Ay,” thought he, “Loyd will be the occupant of this room in a day or two more. I can fancy the playful tap at this door, as Milly goes down to breakfast--I can picture the lazy fool leaning out of that window, gazing at those small snow-peaks, while Florence is waiting for him in the garden--I know well all the little graceful attentions that will be prepared for him, vulgar dog as he is, who will not even recognise the special courtesies that have been designed for him; well, if I be not sorely mistaken, I have dropped some poison in his cup. I have taught Florence to feel that courage is the first of manly attributes, and what is more to the purpose, to have a sort of half dread that it is not amongst her lover’s gifts. I have left her as my last legacy that rankling doubt, and I defy her to tear it out of her heart! What a sovereign antidote to all romance it is, to have the conviction, or, if not the conviction the impression, the mere suspicion, that he who spouts the fine sentiments of the poet with such heartfelt ardour, is a poltroon, ready to run from danger and hide himself at the approach of peril. I have made Milly believe this; she has no doubt of it; so that if sisterly confidences broach the theme, Florence will find all her worst fears confirmed. The thought of this fellow as my rival maddens me!” cried he, as he started up and paced the room impatiently. “Is not that Florence I see in the garden? Alone, too! What a chance!” In a moment he hastened noiselessly down the stairs, opened the drawing-room window and was beside her. “I hope the bad news they tell me is not true,” she said as the walked along side by side. “What is the bad news?” “That you are going to leave us.”