Her bosom heaved, but she would not encourage such proceedings, nor let Rosa see how eager she was to hear those very excuses she had evaded. But, for all that, Rosa knew she was going to read it, for she only had her gown taken off and a peignoir substituted, and her hair let down and brushed a little. Then she dismissed Rosa, locked the door, and pounced on the letter. It lay on her table with the seal uppermost. She turned it round. It was not from _him:_ it was from Lord Uxmoor. She sat down and read it. “DEAR MISS VIZARD--I have had no opportunities of telling you all I feel for you, without attracting an attention that might have been unpleasant to you; but I am sure you must have seen that I admired you at first sight. That was admiration of your beauty and grace, though even then you showed me a gentle heart and a sympathy that made me grateful. But, now I have had the privilege of being under the same roof with you, it is admiration no longer--it is deep and ardent love; and I see that my happiness depends on you. Will you confide _your_ happiness to me? I don't know that I could make you as proud and happy as I should be myself; but I should try very hard, out of gratitude as well as love. We have also certain sentiments in common. That would be one bond more. “But indeed I feel I cannot make my love a good bargain to you, for you are peerless, and deserve a much better lot in every way than I can offer. I can only kneel to you and say, 'Zoe Vizard, if your heart is your own to give, pray be my lover, my queen, my wife.' “Your faithful servant and devoted admirer, “UXMOOR.” “Poor fellow!” said Zoe, and her eyes filled. She sat quite quiet, with the letter open in her hand. She looked at it, and murmured, “A pearl is offered me here: wealth, title, all that some women sigh for, and--what I value above all--a noble nature, a true heart, and a soul above all meanness. No; Uxmoor will never tell a falsehood. He _could_ not.” She sighed deeply, and closed her eyes. All was still. The light was faint; yet she closed her eyes, like a true woman, to see the future clearer. Then, in the sober and deep calm, there seemed to be faint peeps of coming things: It appeared a troubled sea, and Uxmoor's strong hand stretched out to rescue her. If she married him, she knew the worst--an honest man she esteemed, and had almost an affection for, but no love. As some have an impulse to fling themselves from a height, she had one to give herself to Uxmoor, quietly, irrevocably, by three written words dispatched that night. But it was only an impulse. If she had written it, she would have torn it up. Presently a light thrill passed through her: she wore a sort of half-furtive, guilty look, and opened the window. Ay, there he stood in the moonlight, waiting to be heard. She did not start nor utter any exclamation. Somehow or other she almost knew he was there before she opened the window. “Well?” said she, with a world of meaning.