A faint idea as to what Amy's explanation would be arose in her mind, how should she take it? should she remain silent, or answer it, and so lead her on until her whole heart should be probed,--laid bare before her? yes, she would do the latter, would penetrate into the very secret recesses of her heart; find out what her thoughts were, and how much she cared or did not care for her cousin, and then gradually retreat when she had her at her mercy. "We," so she reasoned, "cannot both triumph--one must be defeated--one must fall--and that one must be Miss Neville." Amy stood a little apart. She, too, had a determined expression playing round the corners of her mouth, and her tall, graceful figure was drawn up proudly to its full height; yet there was softness, gentleness in the very way she stood, one small fair hand tightly clasped round the injured wrist, as it rested delicately on the back of the chair, as if to keep down some strong inward emotion with its tight grasp; there was pride--there might be a touch of haughtiness, too--for she was but a poor weak mortal, but there was no anger, no defiance, no doggedness about Amy's looks. Her clear dark grey eye quailed not beneath her companion's hard cold gaze, it flashed as brightly, but there was neither malice, nor hatred, nor revenge in it; all was soft and womanly, though had opportunity offered or occasion required it, it might have returned scorn for scorn. The two young girls were alone. Yet both remained silent; perhaps both feared to be the first to speak, or wished her companion might break the silence becoming every moment more painful and embarrassing. Twice Frances turned her head impatiently, but meeting Amy's steady gaze, her eyelids dropped and again she leant back in the soft cushioned chair, and played with the locket as though she could not rest quiet: if her lips were silent her hands must be employed--she must appear careless and unconcerned, and uninterested in what was to follow. Amy never attempted to move or speak. There she stood gazing at Frances, but seemingly engrossed by other thoughts, for a close observer might have detected a slight, almost imperceptible trembling of the under lip, and a nervous twitching of the fair fingers of the left hand as it rested softly on the other. At length, stooping as though to brush something off her wrapper, Frances spoke. "Well, Miss Neville, how long is this farce to last, this silence continue? I have already intimated my wish to be alone, and that I do not care to be troubled with anything you may have to say; yet, hurried as I am, you seem to take little heed as to the length of time you detain me. Have the kindness to begin and end quickly."