The effect soon passed away with the whole party, and not long after, Mr. Carr left the room for a moment, to see for some supper, as he expressed it. Strange to say, Lieberg was agitated; he, the calm, the composed, the immovable, felt shaken in a way that he had never known in all his earthly course before; and angry at himself for what he called such weakness, he at length drew a little nearer to Helen's side--who, as if placed in stronger opposition than ever to him, was not in the least degree agitated or embarrassed and said--"Dear Miss Barham, I wish very much to obtain a few minutes' private conversation with you." Helen looked a little surprised, but answered with a degree of calmness that provoked him--"Certainly!--I suppose about my brother, of course--I hope there is nothing worse concerning him to be told me, Count Lieberg!" Lieberg resolved to keep her imagination at work, and he replied--"Nothing worse exactly, but still something of much importance." "Can you not tell me now?" she asked, eagerly; but ere he could reply, Mr. Carr returned, and did not quit the room again, till Helen Barham rose and proposed to retire to rest. Lieberg and M. Carr sat for about a quarter of an hour after she was gone, and the Count then was shewn to his room, which he found a very comfortable one; while the display of all his dressing apparatus had given it even an air of splendour, notwithstanding the dimity curtains, and the plain Kidderminster carpet. The valet, Martini, was still busy, arranging everything in the place, when Lieberg entered, and the Count having made him take out some writing materials, sat down, and wrote-- "Dear Miss Barham--Will you kindly write underneath, merely in pencil, at what time to-morrow I can have a few minutes' conversation with you alone, upon the subject that we mentioned?" "There, take that!" he said, folding up the paper, "and find out Miss Barham's maid directly; bid her give it to her mistress, and let me have an answer." The valet took the note, and disappeared. Helen's toilette for the night was well nigh done, and she was on the point of seeking her bed, when she received it; and, guileless and innocent herself, without a thought of evil, she wrote underneath the lines sent by Lieberg, in pencil, "Whenever you like.--Helen Barham." When the note was brought back, Lieberg gazed at it with a keen, triumphant look, though his cheek was pale with intense feeling. "Do you know which is Miss Barham's room?" he said, addressing the valet. "The one at the end of the corridor, sir," said the man; "that on the right; the opposite door leads to a store-room, I find." "And where do you sleep yourself, Martini?" said Lieberg. "I sleep just above Miss Barham's room, sir," replied the man. "Get a horse early to-morrow," said Lieberg; "go over to the post-office at Doncaster, and let me have my letters before eleven."