As he took leave of Miss Turquand, he held her hand for some brief moments, and again looked into the clear depths of her eyes. A deep sigh escaped him as he released the hand he had half-unconsciously retained. Lois heard the sigh, and it was echoed in her heart. Alas! What was the fatal impediment? Not dislike for herself--she felt sure of that. Her pique and resentment were rapidly melting away under the dangerous fire of love and pity. He left her a prey to unrest, impatience, wonderment, the only solace being that she felt confident he would take the earliest opportunity of giving her the explanation thus vexatiously interrupted. She surmised that a letter might possibly reach her some time the next day, or perhaps he might call. It would be so natural for him to come, with the object of ascertaining how she and Miss Dormer were after their fright. Somehow, she did not care to inform Lady Quaintree of what he had said, nor did her ladyship make the slightest approach to an inquiry. But when Lady Quaintree proposed to quit Flore Hall early the following day, she eagerly desired to stay, alleging truly that she was anything but well, as her fainting-fit and the alarm she had suffered had unhinged her nerves. “Just as you please, my love. I will not dictate to you in your own house, and certainly you and dear Blanche do look very pale, so perhaps a day’s rest will be desirable. But really I shall not be able to remain for more than one day longer. I have so many engagements----” And she affected to consult a dainty blue-and-gold note-book, which assuredly did contain a sufficiently full program for the week, but which would not have bound her if she had not found it convenient. With Blanche, Lois was more open. Miss Dormer came for a little while into her room, which the girls would gladly have shared, and listened with absorbed interest to the brief account of the mysterious words spoken on the terrace. When Lois paused, Blanche reflected seriously. “You have not consulted Lady Quaintree yet, since he said these singular things?” she asked. “No,” replied Lois, in a low, constrained voice. “Is it too late to speak to her now?” Lois shrank back. “I know it would be best,” she said; “and yet--and yet I do not like to speak to her until I have something more definite to say. She has always been kind and good to me; but you must remember that she has been my mistress, far above me in every respect; and I can scarcely----I know I am wrong, ungrateful, and yet----” Blanche smiled, and shrugged her pretty shoulders almost imperceptibly. “I understand,” she said, very softly. “I suppose Captain Desfrayne will explain himself to her. I wonder much he has not tried to do so to-night. He might easily have found, or made, an opportunity. You have told me exactly what he said?”