One morning a feverish cold confined Lady Desmond to her bed, and the Hampton Court doctor threatened her with every ill "that flesh is heir to," if she did not, by care and submission to a few days seclusion, nip the growing disorder in the bud. Kate was anxious and uneasy about her, the very thought of a sick room made her heart ache. "Do not look so unhappy about me, love," said her cousin, "it is my will to remain here; I want solitude, I want freedom from external influences; you shall read to me good books." "Milord, his compliments, is very unhappy to hear your ladyship is ill, and begs to know particularly how you are." "Oh! Kate, run down to him, will you, dearest, say I am too unwell to see him, for a week to come, at least; you will--observe--there go, darling." Kate obeyed, neither with alacrity or reluctance, Lord Effingham had almost ceased to be connected in her mind with the audacious stranger who had addressed her, and although this was the first time she had met him alone, since that occurrence, it was with perfect composure she returned his salute, and met his eager scrutinising glance without a shade more of colour tinging her pale cheek. "I am inconsolable at hearing of Lady Desmond's indisposition," said Lord Effingham, before Kate could address a word to him. "How did she catch cold? Has she good advice!" "I do not think her very ill," replied Miss Vernon, "a little care and quiet is all she requires; but she desires me to say, she fears she will not be able to see you for some days; next week, if you should be in this neighbourhood, probably you will find her reinstated in our usual morning room." "Of course I shall make enquiries every day for the health of my charming friend." And as Kate could not avoid thinking there was something of a sneer in the smile and tone with which these words were spoken, they revived all her antipathy to the dark browed peer. Anxious to dismiss him, yet not wishing to show it, she stood a moment, undecided, when Lord Effingham, with a sudden change of voice and expression, from the measured tone and listless look, with which he usually spoke, to one of animation and earnestness, exclaimed-- "No, Miss Vernon, I cannot go yet, though you indicate your desire that I should, by standing. I cannot let the opportunity, I have so long sought, pass, without ascertaining whether your memory is as imperfect as mine is vivid." "If you mean," returned Miss Vernon, raising her eyes to his with the calmness now so habitual to her, "if you mean that you met me before, and that I forget it, you are mistaken; I remember that very unpleasant circumstance perfectly." He was evidently annoyed by her candour and tranquillity. "I regret to find you still resent my conduct, you at least might excuse it." Kate smiled.