But I think she has had too much excitement of late, notwithstanding she appeared so calm. When the bell rang for tea, she begged me to excuse her from going down, and to tell Eugene, when he called, that she was not able to go with him to his father as he had proposed. "Are you ill, my dear," I asked. "I have a very bad head-ache, which will be well by morning." Joseph went out this morning early for a walk, and returned just as I was called to breakfast. Pauline was in the room, and he went directly to her, expressing his pleasure at seeing her down again. He took her hand in his, and said, "I am deeply pained by seeing that you have forgotten all your former friendship for me." He then assured her, she should always have a warm friend in him. Notwithstanding I had thought her wrong, I really pitied the poor girl's confusion. She did not once raise her eyes; but blushed painfully as she withdrew her hand when he had ceased speaking. I pitied Joseph, too. He came to me soon after breakfast, and asked me to walk with him, when he immediately entered upon the subject, saying he had never been so disappointed in a young person, so artless and frank as she used to be. He then asked if Eugene were a suitable companion for her, fearing it was his influence that had so changed her for the worse. I assured him it was not. Then feeling that from his long friendship for us, he had a right to be treated with confidence, I told him in what relation they stood to each other. Though I could see plainly that he was displeased, I commenced at their singular introduction, and told him all that had passed between Colonel Clifford and the Doctor. He listened with the profoundest interest, but did not interrupt me until I had done. "How did you account for the agitation of Colonel Clifford?" he asked. "Oh! a thousand ways," I replied. "He has been an invalid for many years; and her sudden appearance would account for it in a great measure." "Perhaps so," he answered in a doubting tone; "but he evidently supposed her to be a near friend." "Yes," said I, "there is no accounting for the freaks of nature in these close resemblances. I should be struck any where by her resemblance to Frank; yet you know there is no connection." "She must have a singular countenance," he replied, "I noticed yesterday a strong likeness to young Clifford. Does she know of the circumstances connected with her early history?" "Not a word of it." "Nor Clifford?" "No." "Then, my dear cousin, I tell you frankly, I think in this instance you and the Doctor have erred--certainly you have not acted with your usual frankness." I made many excuses which had been satisfactory to my own mind. He said no more, but only shook his head.