"She is a lovely creature, whoever she is," he remarked to his companion when they had walked on a little further. "Don't you think so? She looks delicate, but hardly so much so as I fancied at first. It must have been the effect of her closed eyes." Captain Chancellor did not answer. Major Thanet was a much shorter man than his friend, and he stooped slightly in consequence of his illness. So he had not seen his companion's face since they had passed the invalid girl. Now, however, he looked up, surprised at his silence, and a little irritated by his remark eliciting no reply. "What are you thinking of, Chancellor?" he exclaimed. "Didn't you see the girl? Don't you?" But his sentence was never completed, so much was he startled by what he saw in his friend's face. Captain Chancellor was deadly pale, paler by far than the girl whose pallor had attracted Major Thanet's attention. An expression of extreme disquiet had replaced his ordinary air of comfortable well-bred nonchalance, and his voice sounded hoarse and abrupt when at last he spoke. "There is a sheltered seat on there, I see, Thanet," he said, pointing to a sort of arbour a little in front. "Do you mind my leaving you for a few minutes? I shall not be long, but--but--I _must_ run back for a moment." "Certainly, certainly, by all means," replied Major Thanet, good-naturedly, though feeling not a little curious. "One of the irresistible Beauchamp's little `affaires,' cropping up rather inconveniently, I fear, if what they say of his engagement to that very dark-eyed Miss Eyrecourt be true," he said to himself; adding aloud, when Captain Chancellor had taken him at his word, and deposited him in the summerhouse, "Don't hurry, my dear fellow, on my account. If the worst comes to the worst, I expect I can toddle back to the hotel with my stick." "Thank you. I shall not be long," repeated Beauchamp, hardly knowing what Major Thanet had said, and setting off, as he spoke, at a rapid pace, in the direction of Eugenia's seat.