Meanwhile, the lady, who occupied the adjoining chamber, had recovered slowly from her swoon. She put both hands to her temples, as if trying to recollect her thoughts. Hers was a fair, innocent, almost childish face; and now, as a smile shot across it, there was something so sweet and touching in the gladness it shed over that countenance, that you could not have seen it without strong and almost painful interest. For it was the gladness of a person who has known sorrow. Suddenly she started up, and said: "No, then! I do not dream. He is come back--he is here--all will be well again! Ha! it is his voice. Oh, bless him, it is /his/ voice!" She paused, her finger on her lip, her face bent down. A low and indistinct sound of voices reached her straining ear through the thin door that divided her from Maltravers. She listened intently, but she could not overhear the import. Her heart beat violently. "He is not alone!" she murmured, mournfully. "I will wait till the sound ceases, and then I will venture in!" And what was the conversation carried on in that chamber? We must return to Ernest. He was sitting in the same thoughtful posture when Madame de Ventadour returned. The Frenchwoman coloured when she found herself alone with Ernest, and Ernest himself was not at his ease. "Herbert has gone home to order the carriage, and Lord Doningdale has disappeared, I scarce know whither. You do not, I trust, feel the worse for the rain?" "No," said Valerie. "Shall you have any commands in London?" asked Maltravers; "I return to town to-morrow." "So soon!" and Valerie sighed. "Ah!" she added, after a pause, "we shall not meet again for years, perhaps. Monsieur de Ventadour is to be appointed ambassador to the Court and so--and so--. Well, it is no matter. What has become of the friendship we once swore to each other?" "It is here," said Maltravers, laying his hand on his heart. "Here, at least, lies the half of that friendship which was my charge; and more than friendship, Valerie de Ventadour--respect--admiration--gratitude. At a time of life when passion and fancy, most strong, might have left me an idle and worthless voluptuary, you convinced me that the world has virtue, and that woman is too noble to be our toy--the idol of to-day, the victim of to-morrow. Your influence, Valerie, left me a more thoughtful man--I hope a better one." "Oh!" said Madame de Ventadour, strongly affected; "I bless you for what you tell me: you cannot know--you cannot guess how sweet it is to me. Now I recognise you once more. What--what did my resolution cost me? Now I am repaid!"