When I came to my senses, Lady Thesiger was asking me if I would dine with them the week following; they were expecting some visitors from London. I am sure she must have thought me almost an imbecile, I answered her in such a confused, hesitating way. All the time Agatha sat opposite to me, her lovely eyes drooping over the drawing on which she was engaged when I entered. I could bear it no longer; come what might, I must see those eyes. I went over and stood by her side. Alas! I had rarely, if ever, spoken to any young ladies except Clare and Coralie. I had crossed the room purposely to speak to her. Standing by her chair, every word I had ever known in my life died from memory, I could not think of one thing to say. Bending over the picture, I asked if she were fond of drawing, and then I hated myself for the utter imbecility of the question. When at once the blue eyes were raised to mine all constraint died away; they kindled a fire in my heart that nothing could ever extinguish. "Miss Thesiger," I said, "I should be so pleased if I could excite your interest in my sister." "Have you a sister?" asked Lady Thesiger. "I did not know it; I am afraid she will think me very remiss." I told them all about Clare, speaking, as was my fashion, with my heart upon my lips, telling them of her sweetness, her patience, her long illness, her cheerful resignation. Agatha forgot her reserve, Lady Thesiger looked deeply interested, and when I had finished speaking, the tears were in my eyes. Lady Thesiger held out her hand. "You have quite touched my heart, Sir Edgar; I shall not rest until I have seen Miss Trevelyan." "Nor I," added the daughter. I turned eagerly to her. "You will come over to see my sister? I should be so grateful; she would welcome you so warmly. I have always longed for her to have a friend." There was a slight constraint in the faces of mother and daughter. I wondered what it meant. Lady Thesiger was the first to speak. "We shall be delighted to do all that lies in our power to soften Miss Trevelyan's terrible affliction. Pray, pardon me, Sir Edgar, but is Mademoiselle d'Aubergne still at Crown Anstey?" "She is staying there as a companion to my sister, who is utterly incapable of taking any share in the management of the house." "You must find a wife," said Sir John. "I should say myself that Crown Anstey requires a mistress." I longed to say there and then how I should pray him to give me his daughter for a wife. Our eyes met. She must have read my thoughts, for her face grew crimson, nor did I catch another glimpse of those lovely eyes during my visit. It was with difficulty I could tear myself away. Sir John, who was a great connoisseur in horses, went with me to see Bonnie Prince. While we stood on the lawn he turned to me with a constrained smile. "So mademoiselle is still at Crown Anstey?" he said. "I suppose she is as beautiful as ever?"