His first emotion was, as before, one of keen sympathy in her abounding joy, but this was speedily replaced by the jealous pangs, the doubts and fears, from which sleep had brought him temporary relief. Upon inquiry he learned that his father, with whom the keeping of early hours was a life-long habit, had already breakfasted and gone out. Then the question suggested itself whether he himself should go, as usual, to Madame Le Conte’s to learn Floy’s plans for the day, and become her escort to the Exposition or elsewhere, if such were her pleasure. He held the point in debate for a time, but finally decided to stay away for the morning at least, saying gloomily to himself: “She will not need me, very likely will not so much as miss me; and the others will most assuredly not desire my presence.” The morning and most of the afternoon were passed in tedious lounging in the gentlemen’s reading-room of the hotel and aimless wanderings about the city streets. Then the longing to see Floy, and learn what effect these changes really were likely to have upon his future relations with her, became so overpowering that he turned his steps perforce toward the Madame’s dwelling. It was Ethel herself who admitted him. “I knew it was your ring,” she said, hastily closing the door and lifting to his a face perfectly radiant with joy and gladness. He had been reproaching himself only a moment before for the anxiety and sadness his absence had probably caused her, but it seemed she had felt nothing of the kind. “Ah,” thought he, “it is plain to be seen that I am no longer necessary to her happiness.” “But what is the matter?” she asked, the brightness suddenly dying out of her face as she caught the dismal expression of his. “Are you ill, dear Espy? Have the pictures been abused by those cruel critics? I feared something was wrong when I found you were staying away so long.” “Did you, indeed? I’m sorry, but hope it has not troubled you greatly,” he returned in a slightly sarcastic tone. “No, there is nothing wrong with _me_,” putting a meaning emphasis on the personal pronoun. She gave him a surprised, hurt look, but merely said in a quiet tone: “Come into the parlor, Espy. There is no one there.” He followed her in, feeling ashamed of himself, but, too proud to show it, put on an indifferent air, and leaning against the mantel, toyed idly with its ornaments, leaving it to her to break the silence that succeeded their entrance. “Espy, is this kind? is it generous?” she said at length. “Is what? I’m doing no mischief here,” he said, willfully misunderstanding her; but turning, and seeing the pained expression of her face, his better nature conquered. “No, Floy, darling, it is neither! it is shameful!” he cried, hurrying to her and taking both hands in his. “But the demon of jealousy has taken possession of me. I see now that it is that.” “Jealousy! of whom?” she asked in surprise, but not repulsing him.