"Well, well--dear me! That is _very_ extraordinary. Did he tell you he was going to--to--Good gracious! My dear, it _is_ the most extraordinary thing. I believe you hear everything; but--a--but _listen_. Not an hour ago he came--Richard Arden, of course, we mean--and, my dear Grace, he spoke so very nicely of his troubles, poor fellow, you know--debts I mean, of course--not the least his fault, and all that kind of thing, and--he went on--I really don't know how to tell you. But he said--he said--he said he liked me, and no one else on earth; and he was on the very point of saying _everything_, when, just at that moment, who should come in but that gossiping old woman, Lady Botherton--and he whispered, as he was going, that he would return, after I had had my drive. The carriage was at the door, so, when I got rid of the old woman, I got into it, and came straight here to have a talk with you; and what do you think I ought to say? Do tell me, like a darling, do!" "I wish you would tell _me_ what one ought to say to that question," said Grace Maubray with a slight disdain (that young lady was in the most unreasonable way piqued), "for I'm told he's going to ask me precisely the same question." "_You_, my dear?" said Lady May after a pause, during which she was staring at the smiling face of the young lady; "you can't be serious!" "_He_ can't be serious, you mean," answered the young lady, "and--who's this?" she broke off, as she saw a cab drive up to the hall-door. "Dear me! is it? No. Yes, indeed, it is Sir Richard Arden. We must not be seen together. He'll know you have been talking to me. Just go in here." She opened the door of the boudoir adjoining the room. "I'll send him away in a moment. You may hear every word I have to say. I should like it. I shall give him a lecture." As she thus spoke she heard his step on the stair, and motioned Lady May into the inner room, into which she hurried and closed the door, leaving it only a little way open. These arrangements are hardly completed when Sir Richard is announced. Grace is positively angry. But never had she looked so beautiful; her eyes so tenderly lustrous under their long lashes; her colour so brilliant--an expression so maidenly and sad. If it was acting, it was very well done. You would have sworn that the melancholy and agitation of her looks, and the slightly quickened movement of her breathing, were those of a person who felt that the hour of her fate had come. With what elation Richard Arden saw these beautiful signs! CHAPTER LXVI. A BUBBLE BROKEN. After a few words had been exchanged, Grace said in reply to a question of Sir Richard's,--