Falcon followed them at some distance to see whether it was an admirer or only an acquaintance. A lover he never dreamed of; she had shown such evident pleasure in his company, and had received his visits alone so constantly. However, when the pair had got to the beach, and were walking slower and slower, he felt a pang of rage and jealousy, turned on his heel with an audible curse, and found Phoebe Dale a few yards behind him with a white face and a peculiar look. He knew what the look meant; he had brought it to that faithful face before to-day. “You are better, Miss Lusignan.” “Better, Dr. Staines? I am health itself thanks to--hem!” “Our estrangement has agreed with you?” This very bitterly. “You know very well it is not that. Oh, please don't make me cry in the streets.” This humble petition, or rather meek threat, led to another long silence. It was continued till they had nearly reached the shore. But, meantime, Rosa's furtive eyes scanned Christopher's face, and her conscience smote her at the signs of suffering. She felt a desire to beg his pardon with deep humility; but she suppressed that weakness. She hung her head with a pretty, sheepish air, and asked him if he could not think of something agreeable to say to one after deserting one so long. “I am afraid not,” said Christopher, bluntly. “I have an awkward habit of speaking the truth; and some people can't bear that, not even when it is spoken for their good.” “That depends on temper, and nerves, and things,” said Rosa, deprecatingly; then softly, “I could bear anything from you now.” “Indeed!” said Christopher, grimly. “Well, then, I hear you had no sooner got rid of your old lover, for loving you too well and telling you the truth, than you took up another,--some flimsy man of fashion, who will tell you any lie you like.” “It is a story, a wicked story,” cried Rosa, thoroughly alarmed. “Me, a lover! He dances like an angel; I can't help that.” “Are his visits at your house like angels'--few and far between?” And the true lover's brow lowered black upon her for the first time. Rosa changed color, and her eyes fell a moment. “Ask papa,” she said. “His father was an old friend of papa's.” “Rosa, you are prevaricating. Young men do not call on old gentlemen when there is an attractive young lady in the house.” The argument was getting too close; so Rosa operated a diversion. “So,” said she, with a sudden air of lofty disdain, swiftly and adroitly assumed, “you have had me watched?” “Not I; I only hear what people say.” “Listen to gossip and not have me watched! That shows how little you really cared for me. Well, if you had, you would have made a little discovery, that is all.” “Should I?” said Christopher, puzzled. “What?”