Since the dispersion of the little party at Baden-Baden he had not devoted much meditation to this conscientious gentlewoman who had been so tenderly anxious to establish her daughter properly in life; but there had been in his mind a tacit assumption that if Angela deemed that he had played her a trick Mrs. Vivian’s view of his conduct was not more charitable. He felt that he must have seemed to her very unkind, and that in so far as a well-regulated conscience permitted the exercise of unpractical passions, she honored him with a superior detestation. The instant he beheld her on her threshold this conviction rose to the surface of his consciousness and made him feel that now, at least, his hour had come. “It is Mr. Longueville, whom we met at Baden,” said Angela to her mother, gravely. Mrs. Vivian began to smile, and stepped down quickly toward the gate. “Ah, Mr. Longueville,” she murmured, “it ‘s so long--it ‘s so pleasant--it ‘s so strange--” And suddenly she stopped, still smiling. Her smile had an odd intensity; she was trembling a little, and Bernard, who was prepared for hissing scorn, perceived with a deep, an almost violent, surprise, a touching agitation, an eager friendliness. “Yes, it ‘s very long,” he said; “it ‘s very pleasant. I have only just arrived; I met Miss Vivian.” “And you are not coming in?” asked Angela’s mother, very graciously. “Your daughter has not asked me!” said Bernard. “Ah, my dearest,” murmured Mrs. Vivian, looking at the girl. Her daughter returned her glance, and then the elder lady paused again, and simply began to smile at Bernard, who recognized in her glance that queer little intimation--shy and cautious, yet perfectly discernible--of a desire to have a private understanding with what he felt that she mentally termed his better nature, which he had more than once perceived at Baden-Baden. “Ah no, she has not asked me,” Bernard repeated, laughing gently. Then Angela turned her eyes upon him, and the expression of those fine organs was strikingly agreeable. It had, moreover, the merit of being easily interpreted; it said very plainly, “Please don’t insist, but leave me alone.” And it said it not at all sharply--very gently and pleadingly. Bernard found himself understanding it so well that he literally blushed with intelligence. “Don’t you come to the Casino in the evening, as you used to come to the Kursaal?” he asked. Mrs. Vivian looked again at her daughter, who had passed into the door-way of the cottage; then she said-- “We will go this evening.” “I shall look for you eagerly,” Bernard rejoined. “Auf wiedersehen, as we used to say at Baden!” Mrs. Vivian waved him a response over the gate, her daughter gave him a glance from the threshold, and he took his way back to his inn.