Adelaide was not wholly unprepared for this intelligence; she so thoroughly understood Warenne’s character, that in some measure she expected it, and she felt that the time was come when she must herself make an effort, or permit the happiness of both parties to be sacrificed. She asked Henry if he thought Warenne would come to Epworth at _her_ request. Her brother said, that with her permission he would make the trial. She authorised him to do so. Henry departed. Not a word fell from her lips to stay him, for she wished not to unsay that which she had spoken. Yet when he was gone, she remained transfixed to the spot where he had left her, alarmed at her own boldness; confounded at the change one short moment had made in her fortunes. The tramp of Henry’s horse galloping down the avenue recalled her to self-possession, and she soon taught herself to rejoice in the step she had taken. The world, thought the generous girl, might blame me, if it knew of my request; but he will not,—for he loves me. Love will plead my cause, if I have been too forward,—love, which I should ill deserve, did I permit a fear of the world, or my own false pride to close my lips, when, as I believe, and trust, and hope, one word from them can cheer his gallant spirit, and win him back to happiness. Henry found Warenne brooding over his misfortunes, sad and dispirited as usual; but his dark eye lighted up, and the blood crimsoned his cheek, as he listened to Adelaide’s message. “Your sister wish me to go to Epworth? Impossible!” said he. Henry assured him of the fact. A request from her was not to be refused, and though Warenne had determined not to quit his apartment while yet a cloud should remain upon his reputation, he at once made ready to depart. A few minutes before, and he would instinctively have shrunk from the broad glare of day; but now he passed unheeding beneath the sun’s meridian splendour, for his heart was full of feelings he could not utterly suppress, and his head busied with surmises as to Adelaide’s motives in urging her request. Could it be that she was interested in his fate? he dared not cherish the hope. Yet why should she wish to see him? Alas, Henry had informed her of his wretchedness, and in the kindness of her nature, and because she felt that her kindness would not now be misinterpreted, she sought to amuse him, and divert him from his sorrows. This latter idea predominated when he reached Epworth. He found Adelaide alone. She was prepared for the task she had imposed upon herself, and though her heart beat quickly as she heard his well known step, she advanced to welcome him with an unfaltering voice and apparent composure. “Will you pardon me, Colonel Warenne,” said she, “for the liberty I have taken in requesting you to come and see me?”