That evening Charley Somers formed a sudden resolution. He would not go back to the South and the old stagnating life, which had already made its sad impress upon his mind and character. He would set out at once to South America, to join some resolute fellows who were friends of his, who had gone to seek their fortunes, and had often urged him to come to them. He did not see Margaret again, but wrote her a manly note of farewell, over which she shed tears enough to have recalled him from the ends of the earth, if, by ill-luck, he could have seen them. It happened that Louis Gaston, chancing to meet her on her way to her room with this letter, which she had just been reading, open in her hand, saw her tearful eyes and pale, distressed face; he further noted traces of weeping that would have escaped a superficial observer, when she appeared at dinner an hour later. He could not help associating these signs with Mr. Somers, and when he took occasion to mention the latter’s name, in speaking to Mrs. Gaston after dinner, he was scarcely surprised when she informed him that she had heard, through Margaret, that Mr. Somers had already left for South America, to be gone indefinitely. “He goes to seek his fortune,” said Mrs. Gaston; “therefore I say his return is indefinite.” “And if he finds it,” said Louis Gaston to himself, “and the girl he loves consents to share it with him, a man might well envy him. And if she consents not, what will the fortune avail him? It may be that she has already consented! Most likely the sweet pledge has been given, and he goes to seek his fortune with the knowledge that her hopes and fears are entwined about him. What mightn’t a man accomplish with such a reward as his in view?” These reflections passed through his mind, as he sat quietly on one side of the room watching Miss Trevennon as she sat talking to his brother, only her fair, sweet profile turned toward him, and a slightly distressed look on her face, which his searching eyes alone discovered. CHAPTER XVIII. A few days after Christmas, as Margaret was in her room, writing one of her frequent long letters home, Mr. Decourcy’s card was brought to her. It was with a strong feeling of reluctance that she went down to him, and she stopped at Mrs. Gaston’s door, hoping her cousin would accompany her. Mrs. Gaston, however, was lying on the lounge, reading a novel, and she declared herself to be too tired to stir; so Margaret was obliged to go down alone. After her first impulse had died away, she had concluded to keep the locket, as she felt she had no reason to take so extreme a step as to return it. Nothing, however, would induce her to wear Alan Decourcy’s picture, and that she meant to let him know. It was the first time that Margaret had spoken to her cousin since witnessing the scene with Mrs. Vere in the conservatory, and the recollection of that scene necessarily threw a certain amount of constraint into her manner.