She put out her hand to him with her usual gracious kindness: “For a gentleman, Mr. Fairfax; and the kindest heart in the world. Of course I knew there must be some mistake.” But when they had gone through this explanation and reconciliation, they came back simultaneously to a recollection of that blaze of sudden colour on Alice’s face, and felt the one with rapture, the other with great alarm and tribulation, that in respect to this there could not be any mistake. “But, Lady Markham,” said the young man, “all this does not alter my circumstances. You are very kind and good to me; but here are the facts of the case. I have seen her now; none of us can alter that. It was not, so to speak, my doing. It was--accident, as people say. When a man has had a revelation like this, he does not believe it is an accident; he knows,” said Fairfax, with a slight quiver of his lip, “that something higher than accident has had to do with it. And it can’t be altered now. When that comes into a man’s heart, it is for his life. And, at the same time, I confess to you that I am nobody, Lady Markham--not fit to tie her shoe; but I might be a prince, and not good enough for that. What is to be done with me? Am I to be put to the door once for all, and never to come near her again? Whatever you say I am to do, I will do it. I believe in you as I do in heaven. What you tell me, I will do it; though it may make an end of me, it shall be done all the same.” “Did you come to Markham all the way to say this to me, Mr. Fairfax?” Lady Markham put the question only to gain a little time. “No; I came pretending it was to take care of Paul, who _did_ twist his foot--that is true; and pretending that it was to ask you to persuade him to let me help him (I know a few people and that sort of thing,” said Fairfax hurriedly); “but I believe, if I must tell the truth, it was only just to have the chance of getting one look at her again. That was all. I did not mean to be so bold as to say a word--only to see her again.” “You wanted to help Paul!” Lady Markham felt her head going round. If he was nobody, how could he help Paul? The whole imbroglio seemed more than she could fathom. And Fairfax was confused too. “There are some little things--that I have in my power: I thought, if he would let me, I might set him in the way----: I’ll speak of all that another time, Lady Markham. When a thing like this gets the upper hand, one can’t get one’s head clear for anything else. Now that I have betrayed myself, which I did not mean to, tell me--tell me what is to be done with me. I cannot think of anything else.” What was to be done with him? It is to be feared that, kind as Lady Markham was, she would have made but short work with Fairfax, had it been he only who had betrayed himself. But the light that had blazed on the face of Alice was another kind of illumination altogether. A hasty sentence would not answer here. CHAPTER X.