The question was put in one of those tones that give peculiar value and meaning to words, otherwise of no import,--those tones that may be called a second language, an universal tongue, in which all the comments of the heart are written upon the colder and more abstruse dialect in which we carry on our conversation with the ordinary world. He had asked her before the same question, and received an answer. What was it, then, he now said? A vast deal more, though without using any other than the words he had first employed. He told her, then, with the thrilling anxiety of deep interest, that he feared she was more hurt than she would allow; that he was alarmed, grieved, pained by what had happened; that he was rejoiced to see her again; that the lightest injury to her was of deep importance to him. Yes, although he only used those few words, that brief question, like Lord Burleigh's famous shake of the head, meant all this. Luckily, it so happens that there is no instruction required to learn the language of which we speak; the key to the cipher is in the hearts of every one, but more especially in the breast of woman; and Arabella, whatever were her own feelings, easily translated the tone of William Seymour into express terms. Not that he had ever said one word to her which the most distant acquaintance might not justify; not that one phrase had ever passed between them which the ear of the whole world might not have heard, but he had often spoken as he now spoke, and the tones had often made her heart thrill. She was, however, accustomed to inspire interest and excite admiration; she could not but know it; and, though in many cases she cared little about it, perhaps William Seymour's was not the instance in which she valued it the least. Arabella Stuart fancied herself in no degree ambitious. She had seen princes at her feet, without estimating them in the least by the crowns they offered, or the territories they possessed. She had willingly seen the proposals of some of the highest men in Europe rejected by those who ruled her fate; and yet she was perhaps the most ambitious person that it is possible to conceive; for she sought to obtain that which is the most difficult for any human being to gain--especially of royal blood. The object of her ambition was happiness! that glorious crown which all the jewels of the world cannot enrich, which, studded with the diamonds of the heart, can receive no additional lustre from such paltry things as power, or wealth, or station. In reply, she assured her companion that she was not hurt, and in her tone she thanked him much more than by mere words. She even let him know in some degree that she understood the interest he felt towards her, and was grateful to him for it.