“Am I to understand,” he said, “that your lordship, considering this glove polluted by the accident of my having touched it, will never wear it again?” “Ya--as,” was the reply; “you may very safely come to that conclusion without any fear of misinterpreting my intentions.” “In that case,” continued Lewis, in the same low, clear voice, though his eyes, which were fixed on Lord Bellefield’s, actually glowed with the intensity of his emotion, “I will crave your permission to retain it as a memorial of this evening. Your lordship will observe it is a _right hand_ glove. I may, on some future occasion, have the pleasure of calling your attention to the care with which I have preserved the relic.” So saying, he bowed coldly, and still holding the glove with a vice-like grasp, as though he feared to have it wrested from him, he turned away without waiting a reply. “What on earth does the fellow want with that glove?” inquired Lord Bellefield’s companion, who, not being a particularly intellectual young gentleman, had been greatly mystified by the whole proceeding. “And what in the world is the matter with you?” he added, observing for the first time that his friend was looking strangely pale and shuddering slightly. “Eh--come along--we’re standing in a confounded draught, and I’ve never rightly recovered that ague I picked up at Ancona,” was the reply; and taking his companion’s arm, Lord Bellefield hastily left the room. So engrossed had Lewis been with his own share of the transaction that he had not observed the breathless interest with which the whole scene had been watched by the girl before alluded to. She now approached him under the excuse of offering some cakes, and, as he somewhat impatiently refused them, said in a hurried whisper-- “I beg your pardon, sir, but what is it you intend to do with that glove?” Surprised alike at the question and the quarter from whence it proceeded, Lewis looked at the girl more attentively than he had yet done. She was above the middle height, and of a singularly graceful figure; her features were characterised by a degree of refinement and intelligence not usually to be found amongst persons of her class; she was very pale, and though she endeavoured to repress all outward signs of emotion, he could perceive she was fearfully agitated. “Do with the glove!” returned Lewis. “What makes you ask such an odd question?” “You cannot deceive me, sir,” she replied in the same eager whisper. “I witnessed all that passed between you and--that gentleman just now.” “And what is it you fear?” asked Lewis. “That you are going to challenge him to fight a duel to-morrow morning--and--and perhaps mean to wear that glove on the hand you shoot him with.” As she uttered these last words a strange expression flitted across Lewis’s face; it had passed, however, ere he replied--