But Rex's voice recalled her to herself. In the intense strain, the fatal yet so commonplace words almost made him laugh. There was only one thought which gave him any relief. How young, how almost absurdly childish she was! So, though he had now no longer any self-deception in the matter, though he could scarcely trust that in any sense Robin's warning had been uncalled for, he began to hope that out of the very inexperience which had caused the mischief might come in time the cure. For a moment or two he did not look at her. Then he said quietly--and from the tone of his voice no one could have suspected the almost passion of pity he was feeling-- "Of course I intended _a_ letter for you. That is the envelope, properly addressed, you see. I--I blame myself more than I can ever express." His words meant far more than met the ears, but this, in her confusion of mind, Imogen did not take in. "Then it wasn't a trick?" she said in an odd, dull voice. "I think I would rather it had been a trick." "What put that into your mind?" he said, half sharply. "Supposing it had been a trick, what then?" "I--I don't know. I don't think, if it had been a trick, I could have felt quite so--so degraded," she said. The word was almost more than he could bear. How he longed to comfort her, as a brother might have done! "Miss Wentworth--Imogen," he said, "do, for mercy's sake, spare _me_ a little. You cannot--you cannot possibly say or feel half so bitterly and severely to me as I do to myself. But if you cannot now, some day you will forgive me, won't you? It will all seem so different, you will wonder you cared. I can promise you it will be so, and I am nearly old enough to be your father, you know; and, at worst, no one need ever know except ourselves; for she, Eva," and he lightly touched the letter, "is like myself to me. She is absolutely sweet and trustworthy." "Is her name Eva?" asked Imogen, in a dazed sort of way. "Yes. How is it you have never heard them mention her? My cousins are not generally so reticent," and again the idea struck him, _could_ there have been malice at work in all this? "She has been very ill: that was what I was going to ask leave to tell you about." "I think I heard Florence speak about her. But I thought it was your sister. Her name is Evangeline, and some one said she was sometimes called Eva, and they said it troubled you to have it mentioned; so, even though you had told me about your sister, I scarcely liked to ask how she was." She put great control on herself to speak thus; but as she went on, Rex was relieved to see that she was rewarded for the effort by her calmness increasing. He had been dreading tears. Once let them begin, and he scarcely knew what could be done.