Once Charles thought of it himself, and for a single instant a doubt crossed his bosom as to what his feelings might become; but he laughed it off in a moment. The causes that took him to the manor-house seemed so natural, that there was no fear, he thought, of his feelings becoming anything but what they were already. Indeed, there was no great necessity that they should; for by this time Charles Tyrrell was as much in love with Lucy Effingham as he well could be. The very consequence of his being so much in love was, that he went on, confident he was not so at all; and how long he would have remained in this state of ignorance would be difficult to determine, if the period of his return to Oxford had not rapidly approached, bringing with it thoughts and reflections which made him look more accurately into his own heart. He put off the hour of examination, indeed, till the very evening before the day fixed for his departure. But on that evening Mrs. Effingham and Lucy dined at the Park; and although there occurred not one event which we could take hold of to write it down as a legitimate cause why Charles Tyrrell should feel differently after that evening, yet upon the whole the passing of it had the effect of making him determine to sift his own sensations to the bottom. Of course, there was a certain impression upon the whole party at the Park, caused by his approaching departure. Lady Tyrrell felt it very bitterly, as she always did, and did not scruple to suffer that feeling to appear. But it was the effect upon Lucy Effingham that principally moved Charles Tyrrell. She said not a word but such as she was accustomed to say: no one single incident took place to show that there was a difference in her feelings; and yet a certain softness, a degree of sadness coloured her thoughts, and was heard in the tone of her voice, which Charles Tyrrell did remark. He was anything but vain, and would never, probably, have applied what he did remark to himself, had not hope been busy with imagination, and imagination with Lucy Effingham. But, as it was so, he did remark, in addition to the softness and sadness of Lucy's tone and manner, that the softness and sadness were always somewhat increased after his approaching departure had been mentioned. As he gazed upon her, too, he thought that she was lovelier than ever. As he stood beside her while she sang, her voice seemed to him melody itself; and when he put her into the carriage which was to bear her away, the thrill which ran through his heart as she shook hands with him and bade him farewell, made him pause for a moment in the vestibule ere he returned to the rest of the world. As soon as he had retired to his own room, Charles began his commune with his own heart. The interrogatory, as far as the actual facts were concerned, was soon at an end; for when he asked himself if he loved Lucy Effingham really, truly, and sincerely, his heart answered "yes" at once.