The girl was startled. She looked full in his face as if trying to read in his eyes all the circumstances of that hasty step, even while she silenced the cry of her own heart. She had been honest with him and with herself; she had never allowed herself, except in a rare idle day-dream, to think that the strong secret inclination towards him of her suppressed and somewhat neglected affections, would ever blossom into happy love; but now that even a day-dream was no longer possible, she felt suddenly that she had lost something precious out of that storehouse of heart and imagination which holds a woman’s fairest joys. In the yearning, searching, half-bewildered look she gave him George, if he did not read quite all that was in her heart, learnt enough to fill him with self-reproach and yet with a strong sense of human sympathy. “It was a rash thing to do, I know,” he said, relieved by feeling that here at least was a being to whom he could pour out all his heart on the subject; “but she was in the most dangerous circumstances, scarcely more than a child, and surrounded by careless and undesirable companions. The only way to guard her was to marry her, and besides--” “You love her,” said Ella gently. “Yes.” Both were silent for a moment. Then she said, all her ordinary abruptness of manner melted by kindly feeling: “I suppose, George, from what you have told me and what you have not told me, that she was not, well--not in the same rank of life as you are?” “No, at least--certainly not in the same circumstances. She is the daughter of a Spanish Countess, who does not live in England, and you know we English have a sort of idea that only some half-dozen foreign titles are well-authenticated, so that a descent from Russian princes, for instance, is accounted rather less desirable than a descent from English buttermen.” “That will hurt you socially then, George, because people will not be so ready to take her up.” George shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t care much for society myself, but it may be hard on the poor child.” Ella rose, as if moved by a sudden impulse, and saying she must remind her mother of an appointment, she left George and crossed to her parents, to each of whom she said a few words in a low voice as luncheon was announced. They had scarcely all taken their seats in the dining-room, when Lady Millard, upon a glance from her youngest daughter, said: “I don’t think you have treated us quite fairly in keeping us all in the dark except Ella, George. However, there is nothing left for us now but to congratulate you, and to insist upon your coming to us at Maple Lodge in September, and bringing your wife with you.” “You might have knocked me down with a feather, as the housemaids say, when Ella told me about it just now, and said I was to hold my tongue about it till it was announced,” said Sir Henry, while the other two girls lifted up their gentle voices and clamoured questions about the bride.