The blood mounted slightly into the cheek of Arrah Neil, and she said, after a slight hesitation, "I must tell him alone, dear Lady Margaret. I would fain tell you too, because I know you would advise and help me well; but they made me promise that I would only tell him and Annie." "Nay, my child, I seek not to know," replied Lady Margaret; "I have had too many sad secrets in my life, and desire no more. And yet, Arrah, and yet," she added, "there might be a tale for you to tell; but it is a dream--wild, idle dream: no more of it! Go with him into the gardens, my child, and tell him what you have to say." Arrah Neil rose timidly, and raised her eyes to Lord Walton's face as he stood beside his aunt; but, grave and somewhat stern, as he sometimes seemed to others, to her he was always gentleness itself, and taking her hand he drew her harm through his and led her towards the gardens. Lady Margaret seated herself where Arrah had been sitting, and, bending down her head over the dog, continued talking to him in a low murmuring voice for some minutes. Annie Walton and the Earl of Beverley remained conversing in the window, and their eyes soon rested upon Lord Walton and Arrah Neil, as they walked up and down one of the broad gravel-walks. The face of the young nobleman was grave and attentive; but from time to time he raised his look to his fair companion's countenance, and seemed to ask some questions, Arrah Neil's gaze was most frequently bent upon the ground, but nevertheless at different periods of their conference she glanced for a single instant eagerly at the face of Charles Walton, as if seeking to discover what impression her story made upon him, and then with downcast eyes again went on with her tale. Annie Walton felt for her; for there was something is her heart that made her sure the telling of that tale to the ear that heard it would be matter of no light emotion to poor Arrah Neil. She would have given worlds to see her brother smile, to know that he spoke gentle words and kind encouragement; but he turned up and down the walk, again and again, with the same thoughtful air, the same high and lofty bearing--not proud, not harsh, but grave and calm. And yet it was better as it was, for Arrah Neil knew him well and loved him dearly as he was; and any deviation from his natural character, any softer, any more tender movement, might have agitated her and rendered her incapable of going on with tranquil clearness. At length, however, when it seemed all at an end--the story told as far as she could tell it--the whole truth known as far as she knew it herself--Lord Walton suddenly paused, and casting his arms suddenly round her who had been the object of his house's bounty, pressed a warm kiss upon her glowing cheek. Then taking her hand in his, he drew it within his arm again and led her back towards the house, her face crimson and her limbs trembling with deep emotion. The Earl of Beverley turned to Annie Walton with a smile.