“The hateful old thing!” muttered Ada, while Anna turned white as marble, and Miss Marvin continued—“When the lady had gone he begged pardon for the liberty, but asked her if she knew you. Of course, she told him she did, and gave him any further information which she thought would please him.” “Of course she did—the meddling widow!” again interrupted Ada; after which Miss Marvin proceeded—“Mrs. Cameron didn’t mean to do anything wrong, for how could she guess that ’twould affect him in any way to know you were engaged?” “And she told _him_ I was engaged! It isn’t so. I ain’t,” exclaimed Ada, while the angry tears dropped from her glittering eyes. “What does that mean then?” asked Miss Marvin, laughingly, pointing at the ring on Ada’s finger. Her first impulse was to wrench it from her hand and cast it from her, but she remembered herself in time, and growing quite calm, as if to attribute her recent agitation to a different cause, she said; “I wish people would attend to their own affairs, and let mine alone. Suppose I am engaged—is that a reason why Mrs. Cameron should discuss the matter with strangers? But what else did she say? And where is the gentleman now?” “Gone home,” answered Miss Marvin, glancing mischievously at her companions. “He went the next morning, and she said he looked very much disturbed, either at your illness or your engagement, the former probably, and that is why I think it strange that he didn’t stop to see you; though maybe he did.” “No, he didn’t,” chimed in Miss Marvin’s sister, “for don’t you know she said he went to the theatre?” All this time my interest in the unknown Georgian had been increasing, and at this last remark I forgot myself entirely, and started forward, exclaiming, “Yes, he was there, I saw him and spoke with him too.” The next moment I sank back upon the ottoman, abashed and mortified, while Ada gave me a withering glance, and said scornfully, “_You_ spoke to him! And pray, what did you say?” An explanation of what I said, would, I knew, oblige me to confess the fainting fit, of which I was somewhat ashamed, and so I made no reply; nor was any expected, I think, for without waiting for my answer, Ada said to Miss Marvin, “Mrs. Cameron, of course, learned his name, even if she had to ask it outright.” “Yes, she made inquiries of the clerk, who wouldn’t take the trouble of looking on the book, but said he believed it was _Field_, or something like that,” returned Miss Marvin. As if uncertainty were now made sure, Ada turned so white that in some alarm her young friends asked what they should do for her; but she refused their offers of aid, saying, “it was only the heat of the room, and she should soon feel better.” “And is it the heat of the room which affects _you_, Miss Lee?” asked one of the girls, observing for the first time the extreme pallor of Anna’s face. “Only a headache,” was her answer, as she pressed her hand upon her forehead.