A man less vain than De Forrest would not have gathered much encouragement from Lottie's face, for it had a very weary and bored expression as he commenced the rather stilted and very sentimental introduction to the "gush" that was to follow. She divined his purpose as she saw him summoning to his aid all his rather limited elocutionary powers, and noted how he gave to every line that verged toward love the tenderest accent. But the satirical side-gleam from her eyes, as she watched him, was anything but responsive or conducive to sentiment; and finally, as she became satisfied of his object, the smile that flitted across her face would have quenched the most impetuous declaration as effectually as a mill-pond might quench a meteor. But Julian, oblivious of all this, was growing pathetic and emotional; and if she escaped the scene at all, she must act promptly. She did so, for in five minutes, to all appearance, she was asleep. At first, when he glanced up to emphasize a peculiarly touching line, he thought she had closed her eyes to hide her feelings; but at last, when he reached the particular and soul-melting climax that was to prepare the way for his own long-desired crisis, having given the final lines in a tone that he thought would move a marble heart, he laid the book down to prepare for action, and the dreadful truth dawned upon him. She was asleep! What could he do? To awaken her, and then go forward, would not answer. People were generally cross when disturbed in their sleep; and he knew Lottie was no exception. He was deeply mortified and disappointed. He got up and stalked tragically and frowningly to the hearth-rug, and stared at the apparently peaceful sleeper, and then flung himself out of the room, very much as he was accustomed to when a spoiled and petulant boy. After he was gone, Lottie quivered with laughter for a few moments; then stole away to her room, where she blotted out the weary hour with sleep unfeigned, until aroused by the supper-bell. CHAPTER XIV. LOTTIE A MYSTERIOUS PROBLEM. After a brief toilet, Lottie came down to tea looking like an innocent little lamb that any wolf could beguile and devour. She smiled on De Forrest so sweetly that the cloud began to pass from his brow at once. "Why should I be angry with her?" he thought, "she did not understand what I was aiming at, and probably supposed that I meant to read her asleep, and yet I should have thought that the tones of my voice--Well, well, Lottie has been a little spoiled by too much devotion. She has become accustomed to it, and takes it as a matter of course. When we are married, the devotion must be on the other side of the house." "I thought Mr. Hemstead would be back this evening?" she said to her aunt. "No, not till to-morrow evening. You seem to miss Frank very much."