"Awful old women?" exclaimed Grey. "Yes, to bring up Miss Perowne as such--a man-killer." "Oh! Mr Chumbley," cried Grey, "the Miss Twettenhams were the sweetest, most amiable of ladies, and Helen Perowne made them really very anxious--" She checked herself suddenly, as if annoyed at having spoken against her friend, at whom she glanced now, to see that she seemed to be really the queen of the feast. "Yes," said Chumbley, drily, "you're right. They must have been nice old ladies; but about Hilton," he continued. "You see it's like this; a fellow gets caught before he knows where he is, and then he thinks he has arrived at the happiest time of his life; then, a few days later, he sees some other fellow coming to the happiest point of _his_ life; and then, after a flush or two of fever, the first fellow begins to feel much better. I say, Miss Stuart, I was awfully in love with Helen Perowne." "Yes, I think you were," she replied, with a sad little smile. "Awfully," he said again. "It was all over with me. I fell in love in five minutes, and I thought her quite a goddess; while now--" "Yes," said Grey, smiling; and her face looked very bright and ingenuous. "While now?" "Well now--I don't," he said, slowly. "Master Hilton won't by-and-by. I say, Miss Grey," he whispered, laughing merrily, "do you feel as if you were going to die?" "To die?" she said, opening her eyes very widely in her surprise; and as they met those of Chumbley he could not help thinking what sweet, earnest eyes they were. "Just like those of that girl tying the handkerchief round the fellow's arm in Millais' picture of _The Huguenot_," he said to himself. "Hah! he'll be a lucky fellow who wins her for his own!" "Yes," he said aloud, after a pause, during which he had looked so earnestly at her that she had cast down her eyes and blushed; "yes, of the poisoned cup. No; out here in this land of romance, and living as we are amongst sultans, and princes, and slaves, just as if the Arabian nights had been brought into private life--I ought to say poisoned chalice or envenomed goblet, but I won't; I'll say cup, with a dose in it. I say, Miss Stuart," he drawled, "it was too bad of you to be so suspicious." "Are you two lovers?" said a deep, rich voice, close by them; and they both turned suddenly, to see that the Princess was watching them with a peculiar smile upon her lip. "Why do you ask that?" said Chumbley, laughing. "Because you look like it," said the Princess. "I am glad: I like you both. You are a very wise man," she added, tapping Chumbley on the shoulder with her fan. "As you are wrong about the engagement, my dear Princess," said Chumbley, laughing, "so it is natural that you should be wrong about my wisdom, for Miss Stuart and I are only the best of friends."