Willoughby it was evident had no eyes for any object but his fair companion, towards whom he turned and addressed with an eagerness which precluded the possibility of his ever once looking before him, much less over his shoulder. Caroline of course turned her head from time to time towards Willoughby to reply. She wore the memorable close bonnet of white sarsenet which Alfred had thought so becoming. The morning he had first seen her wear it became present to memory, while imagination vividly pourtrayed within its own beautifying sanctuary that vision of loveliness which it now seemed to be the peculiar privilege of another to behold, as once it had been his, sheltered from the common gaze, and beautiful for him alone. Lady Arden's party also was close before him, but his agitation, instead of being at all composed by the time he reached the front of the pump-room, was so much increased, that while the ranks of fashion were wheeling to the right or left, to turn down the prescribed limit, he found a convenient screen behind the crimson velvet pelisse of Lady Whaleworthy who chanced to be near, and a moment after, turning off by a cross walk, he made his way home. On the plea to the servant who admitted him, of fatigue after his journey, he sought the shelter of his own apartment; where, while he was supposed to have retired to bed and slept, he sat strengthening and preparing his mind by meditation for a meeting with his brother, and endeavouring to resolve what should be the tenor of his own conduct. He had been but a very short time shut into his room, his mind still in much too perturbed a state for society, when he heard the family party coming in below. He could distinguish Willoughby's step cross the hall and hastily ascend the stairs, but he had not yet resolution to admit him; he therefore bolted his door without noise, and remained quite still. He heard Willoughby turn the handle of the lock gently, and after pausing a moment retire. "They have told him of my arrival, and with his wonted kindness, poor fellow, he is impatient to see me," thought Alfred. "And if he is destined," he added, after a pause, "to a better, a brighter lot than mine, shall I wantonly embitter his happiness by allowing him to perceive that the confirmation of hope to him will be the sealing of despair to me? No, no, I will be more generous, he shall see me firm, collected--if possible cheerful. Nay, that he is happy, surely ought to be, and as surely is, a source of rejoicing to me. Would this admit of a question were his happiness derived from any other source?--Certainly not! What perverted feeling, then, can it be to which I yield?--Selfishness! yes, selfishness the most aimless, the most degraded! For shame! for shame! I must cast it from me and be a man."