She turned her back on him, and said to Zoe, with a good deal of sweetness and weight, “I have lived to see goodness and beauty united. I will never despair of human nature.” This was too pointblank for Zoe; she blushed crimson, and said archly, “I think it is time for me to run. Oh, but I forgot; here is my card. We are all at that hotel. If I am so very attractive, you will come and see me--we leave town very soon--will you?” “I will,” said Rhoda. “And since you took me for an old acquaintance, I hope you will treat me as one,” said Severne, with consummate grace and assurance. “I will, _sir,”_ said she, icily, and with a marvelous curl of the lip that did not escape him. She lighted them down the stairs, gazed after Zoe, and ignored Severne altogether. CHAPTER XV. GOING home in the carriage, Zoe was silent, but Severne talked nineteen to the dozen. Had his object been to hinder his companion's mind from dwelling too long on one thing, he could not have rattled the dice of small talk more industriously. His words would fill pages; his topics were, that Miss Gale was an extraordinary woman, but too masculine for his taste, and had made her own troubles setting up doctress, when her true line was governess--for boys. He was also glib and satirical upon that favorite butt, a friend. “Who but a _soi-disant_ woman-hater would pick up a strange virago and send his sister to her with twenty pounds? I'll tell you what it is, Miss Vizard--” Here Miss Vizard, who had sat dead silent under a flow of words, which is merely indicated above, laid her hand on his arm to stop the flux for a moment, and said, quietly, _“Do_ you know her? tell me.” “Know her! How should I?” “I thought you might have met her--abroad.” “Well, it is possible, of course, but very unlikely. If I did, I never spoke to her, or I should have remembered her. _Don't you think so?”_ “She seemed very positive; and I think she is an accurate person. She seemed quite surprised and mortified when you said 'No.'” “Well, you know, of course it is a mortifying thing when a lady claims a gentleman's acquaintance, and the gentleman doesn't admit it. But what could I do? I couldn't tell a lie about it--could I?” “Of course not.” “I was off my guard, and rudish; but you were not. What tact! what delicacy! what high breeding and angelic benevolence! And so clever, too!” “Oh, fie! you listened!” “You left the door ajar, and I could not bear to lose a word that dropped from those lips so near me. Yes, I listened, and got such a lesson as only a noble, gentle lady could give. I shall never forget your womanly art, and the way you contrived to make the benefaction sound nothing. 'We are all of us at low water in turns, and for a time, especially me, Zoe Vizard; so here's a trifling loan.' A loan! you'll never see a shilling of it again! No matter. What do angels want of money?” “Oh, pray,” said Zoe, “you make me blush!”