“Thank you for saying so. I shall never, of course, breathe a word of all that has happened lately.” “I know that. But how did you guess my name, Doctor May?” “You forget that your portrait is in almost every print-shop in London, Lady Gwendolyn.” “True; it is very impertinent of people, but my brother said it could not be helped.” “I shall hear of your marriage soon, I suppose?” he ventured to say, emboldened by her gracious manner; “and, believe me, Lady Gwendolyn, no one will pray for your happiness more earnestly than I.” “I am sure of that,” she replied, holding her hand to him with a rosy blush. “But I do not know yet anything about my marriage. You see, my brother is away, and--there are certain little difficulties. But I am so happy to-night, I can only look on the bright side; and I feel as if things must come right. See, Doctor May, Colonel Dacre is already asleep. Oh!”--with a sudden, frightened glance at her companion--“is it sleep? He looks so terribly like death! Do come and see!” She drew him forward with nervous haste, and watched him, with her heart in her eyes, as he bent over the sick man and felt his pulse. “It is all right--but he will look like this for awhile--he is so terribly pulled down. However, he will get on now, I believe. Try and get a little sleep yourself, Lady Gwendolyn, for you need it sadly, too.” “I am too happy to be tired,” she said confidently. Nevertheless, when Doctor May was gone, and there was silence in the sick-room, she began to feel drowsy, and presently she was locked in slumber as soft as it was light. When once Colonel Dacre had taken a turn for the better he mended very fast. But then he was so patient and good, and took his medicine without so much as a wry face. He wanted to get well quickly, for his special license was ready, and he had a notion that Lady Gwendolyn could hardly deny him now. But not a word did he say on the subject, for fear of scaring her away; and she just drifted along with the tide, hardly caring where it landed her, so that it was close to Lawrence Dacre. One afternoon she had gone out to do some commission, and as she was stepping out of the shop, she found herself suddenly face to face with her sister-in-law, Lady Teignmouth. Pauline held out her hand with an embarrassed smile. “I declare, it is you, Gwen! What are you doing in town at such a dreadful time of the year?” “You forget that I might contaminate you,” answered Lady Gwendolyn, refusing the proffered hand, and standing up very straight. “It is a great pity you spoke to me, Pauline, because I know how careful you are never to conceal the slightest thing from my brother, and he will be very angry.” Pauline laughed--the hollow, artificial laugh that always grated upon Lady Gwendolyn’s nerves. “Don’t be so very absurd! No woman, with a grain of sense, makes a confidant of her husband. Besides, Reggie is quite coming round, Gwen; he is, indeed!”