“True, it affects their imaginations vividly; but it seems childish. Does she have to kiss a sword and a book?” Merthyr made a gesture like a shrug, with a desponding grimace. “You know,” answered Georgiana, smiling, “that I was excused any formula, by special exemption. I have no idea of what is done. Water, salt, white thorns, and other Carbonaro mysteries may be in use or not: I think no worse of the cause, whatever is done.” “I love the cause,” said Merthyr. “I dislike this sort of conspiratorial masque Marini and his Chief indulge in. I believe it sustains them, and there's its only use.” “I,” said Georgiana, “love the cause only from association with it; but in my opinion Marini is right. He deals with young and fervent minds, that require a ceremony to keep them fast--yes, dear, and women more than others do. After that, they cease to have to rely upon themselves--a reliance their good instinct teaches them is frail. There, now; have I put my sex low enough?” She slid her head against her brother's shoulder. If he had ever met a man worthy of her, Merthyr would have sighed to feel that all her precious love was his own. “Is there any likelihood that Belloni will be there tonight?” he asked. She shook her head. “He has not been there since. He went for that purpose.” “Perhaps Marini is right, after all,” said Merthyr, smiling. Georgiana knew what he meant, and looked at him fondly. “But I have never bound you to an oath,” he resumed, in the same tone. “I dare say you consider me a little different from most,” said Georgiana. She had as small reserve with her brother as vanity, and could even tell him what she thought of her own worth without depreciating it after the fashion of chartered hypocrites. Mr. Powys wrote to Marini to procure him an interview with Belloni as early as possible, and then he and Georgiana went down to Lady Charlotte. Letters from Adela kept the Brookfield public informed of the doings on board the yacht. Before leaving home, Wilfrid with Arabella's concurrence certainly--at her instigation, as he thought--had led his father to imagine, on tolerably good grounds, that Mrs. Chump had quitted Brookfield to make purchases for her excursion on lively waters, and was then awaiting him at the appointed station. One of the old man's intermittent nervous fits had frightened them into the quasi-fabrication of this little innocent tale. The doctor's words were that Mr. Pole was to be crossed in nothing--“Not even if it should appear to be of imminent necessity that I should see him, and he refuses.” The man of science stated that the malady originated in some long continued pressure of secret apprehension. Both Wilfrid and Arabella conceived that persuasion alone was wanted to send Mrs. Chump flying to the yacht; so they had less compunction in saying, “She is there.”