“_Halte là!_” interrupted Lewis; “lookers-on see most of the game; and if I know anything of woman’s nature”--he paused and bit his lip as the recollection of Gretchen crossed his mind--“depend upon it, Miss Peyton is not as indifferent to you as you imagine.” “Did you see how coldly she received me to-night?” urged Leicester. “Yes; and her so doing only confirmed my previous opinion. That chattering Miss Singleton had annoyed her by bidding me summon you in Miss Peyton’s name; but the very fact of her annoyance showed consciousness; had she been indifferent to you she would not have cared. Then her irritation at Lady Mary’s familiarity proves the same thing.” “You really think so?” returned Leicester, brightening up. “My dear fellow, you’ve quite put new life into me. It’s very odd now, I never saw it in that light before. What would you have me do, then?” “If, as you say, you really and truly love her,” returned Lewis gravely, “lay aside--excuse my plain speaking--lay aside your fashionable airs, which disguise your true nature, and tell her of your affection in a simple, manly way, and if she is the girl I take her to be, your trouble will not be wasted.” So saying, he rose and quitted the room, leaving Leicester to reflect on his advice. CHAPTER XXV.--CONTAINS A MYSTERIOUS INCIDENT, AND SHOWS HOW THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE NEVER DOES RUN SMOOTH. As Lewis, after the conversation detailed in the last chapter, was prosecuting his search for Walter through the various apartments he encountered Annie Grant, who, having escaped the vigilance of Miss Livingstone, was enjoying, in company with a young lady friend, the dangerous luxury of standing by an open window. The moment she perceived Lewis she advanced towards him and began-- “May I detain you one moment, Mr. Arundel? Can you tell me anything of my cousin Charles? I’m afraid he must be ill, and I wished him to exert himself so particularly to-night.” “He is not ill,” returned Lewis. “I left him not two minutes since in the card-room.” “In the card-room?” repeated Annie in a tone of annoyance; “what can he be doing there? Is he playing whist?” “No,” was the reply; “he did not appear in a humour to enjoy the dancing, and had gone there for the sake of quiet.” “A fit of his incorrigible idleness, I suppose,” remarked Annie pettishly; “really it is too provoking; it must seem so odd his absenting himself on such an occasion as this. Would you mind the trouble of returning and telling him I want to speak to him particularly, and that he will find me here?” “I shall be most happy; it is no trouble,” began Lewis. He paused, and then added in a lower tone, “Perhaps you scarcely do Mr. Leicester justice in attributing his absence to a fit of indolence; I fancied, from his manner, something had occurred to annoy him.”