Miss Lloyd pleaded a violent headache as an excuse for her non-attendance at the breakfast-table the morning after the scene between herself and Gerald in the back drawing-room. She felt as if she could not face any one for a little while; but, more than all, the possibility of meeting Gerald frightened her. To have gone in to breakfast, and have found him there, would have set her heart fluttering and have brought the tell-tale colour to her cheeks, and would almost infallibly have betrayed her secret to every one. No; she felt as if she could not meet any one just yet--that she did not want to meet anyone. She asked for no greater happiness at present than to sit alone by her dressing-room fire, and live over again in memory last night's wondrous scene. She had only to shut her eyes, and every word, and look, and tone, came back to her with the most realistic force. What a change three short minutes had wrought in her life! She seemed to have lived a hundred years since yesterday morning; or, rather, the Eleanor Lloyd of yesterday was dead and buried--dead and buried because the poor creature had not known what it was to love! It was, indeed, like the beginning of a new life to her. "To think that I have been loving him all along, and did not know it!" she said to herself, with a little laugh. "I wonder how long it is since he first found out that he loved me. I will make him tell me all about it after awhile." Then her cheeks flushed, and her heart beat faster at the thought of all that such a sweet possibility implied. "How glad I am that he is poor and I am rich," she said. "All that I have shall be his. My money will lend wings to his ambition." Then came the thought, "When shall I see him again, and what will he say when I do see him?" She felt that she dreaded and yet longed for the time to come when they should meet again. It would be trying enough to have to meet him in the company of others, but the thought of encountering him alone, while sending a delicious thrill through her, made her quake with fear. On one point she was quite determined--she would shun a private interview with him as long as possible. She was quite aware that such an interview must take place sooner or later, but it should be altogether of his seeking, not of hers. She knew her own weakness. She knew that whenever Mr. Pomeroy should say to her, "Eleanor, I love you, and I want you to become my wife," all power of resistance would be taken from her, and that she should have no alternative but to yield. At present she had not yielded, and she would try to keep out of his way for a little while longer. When next he should encounter her, the spear of his love would smite her, and she must needs become his bondswoman for ever. Lady Dudgeon sent some breakfast upstairs, and, by-and-by, she made her appearance in person. She wanted to satisfy herself that there was nothing seriously the matter with Miss Lloyd. It was but a simple headache, Eleanor informed her.