Frances quailed before that steady, searching look; then rose and crossed the room, passing close by Anne as she went. "Miss Bennet," said she, with one of her coldest and most sarcastic smiles, "Miss Bennet has recourse to enigmas at times,--enigmas not very difficult of solution, although I for one cannot see the point they aim at," and she passed on. Anne watched her opportunity all the evening, but to no purpose. Frances' suspicions were roused; it was impossible to get speech of Charles, and Anne was obliged to go up to bed with the rest, without having given one sign, or being able to say one word to him. But Anne was not to be thus foiled; as soon as she gained her room she sat down and penned a note to Charles. She had something of great importance to tell him; would he meet her in the library before breakfast, at eight o'clock? and then away she flew in fear and trepidation down the long, dark corridors, and knocked at Charles's door. "It is I, Anne Bennet," she said. "Open the door, quick! Make haste, I am frightened to death!" In another moment the door opened. "What is it?" said he, with a look of surprise. She thrust the note into his hand, and was hurrying away. "Stay, let me light you," he said. "Oh! no, not for worlds!" she replied, then fled hastily, and gained her room without being seen. Anne was too restless to sleep much that night, and was up and away downstairs the next morning before the hour she had named, and grew quite impatient at the slow movement of the minute hand of the clock on the chimney-piece, as she walked up and down awaiting Charles's coming. Suppose he should not come? But, no, he must think it was something important to drag her out of bed at that unearthly hour, full two hours before her usual time. But there was a step coming along the hall now; then the door opened and Charles entered. "You are sure Frances did not see you?" asked Anne. "Yes," replied he, in some amazement, "but her maid did." "Then I have not a moment to lose," said Annie, "come here and listen to me. Do you remember meeting me on the stairs, the morning you left Brampton so hurriedly? and your refusal to tell me why you had determined on doing so? or rather that you left because you had heard that Miss Neville no longer loved you?" "No, Anne, no, you are wrong," replied Charles, decidedly, "I told you I had found out that Miss Neville had never cared for me, that her heart was entirely another's." "It is all one and the same thing. I told you then that I did not believe it, and asked you to tell me how you had found it out, did I not?" "You did. But why rake up old feelings which only tend to wound and bruise the heart afresh?" "I am glad they do; if they did not I would not say one word in Miss Neville's defence." "Defence! You talk strangely, Anne. Don't whisper hope to my heart, which can only end in misery and despair. I dare not hope." "You will hope when you have heard all."