"You ran away, Anne, whilst mamma and I held our conference?" "I hope it has been satisfactory," she answered demurely, not looking up, and wondering whether he suspected how violently her heart was beating. "Partly so. The end was all right. Shall I tell it you?" "The end! Yes, if you will," she replied unsuspectingly. "The decision come to is, that a certain young friend of ours is to be converted, with as little delay as circumstances may permit, into Lady Hartledon." Of course there came no answer except a succession of blushes. Anne's work, which she had carried with her, took all her attention just then. "Can you guess her name, Anne?" "I don't know. Is it Maude Kirton?" He winced. "If you have been told that abominable rubbish, Anne, it is not necessary to repeat it. It's not so pleasant a theme that you need make a joke of it." "Is it rubbish?" asked Anne, lifting her eyes. "I think you ought to know that if any one does. But had anything happened, Anne, recollect it would have been your fault. You have been very cool to me of late. You forbid me the house for weeks and weeks; you went away for an indefinite period without letting me know, or giving me the chance of seeing you; and when the correspondence was at length renewed, your letters were cold and formal--quite different from what they used to be. It almost looks as if you wished to part from me." Repentance was stealing over her: why had she ever doubted him? "And now you are going away again! And although this interview may be our last for months, you scarcely deign to give me a word or a look of farewell." Anne had already been terribly tried by Mrs. Graves: this was the climax: she lost her self-control and burst into tears. Lord Hartledon was softened at once. He took her two hands in his; he clasped her to his heart, half devouring her face with passionate kisses. Ah, Lady Maude! this impassioned love was never felt for you. "You don't love her?" whispered Anne. "Love her! I never loved but you, my best and dearest. I never shall, or can, love another." He spoke in all good faith; fully believing what he said; and it was indeed true. And Anne? As though a prevision had been upon her of the future, she remained passively in his arms sobbing hysterically, and suffering his kisses; not drawing away from him in maiden modesty, as was her wont. She had never clung to him like this. "You will write to me often?" he whispered. "Yes. Won't you come to Cannes?" "I don't know that it will be possible, unless you remain beyond the spring. And should that be the case, Anne, I shall pray your father and mother that the marriage may take place there. I am going up to town next month to take my seat in the House. It will be a busy session; and I want to see if I can't become a useful public man. I think it would please the doctor to find I've some stuff in me; and a man must have a laudable object in life."