‘Nothing more natural,’ replied Tancred; and he turned the conversation. Lady Bertie was much depressed this morning, so much so that it was impossible for Tancred not to notice her unequal demeanour. Her hand trembled as he touched it; her face, flushed when he entered, became deadly pale. ‘You are not well,’ he said. ‘I fear the open carriage last night has made you already repent our expedition.’ She shook her head. It was not the open carriage, which was delightful, nor the expedition, which was enchanting, that had affected her. Would that life consisted only of such incidents, of barouches and whitebait banquets! Alas! no, it was not these. But she was nervous, her slumbers had been disquieted, she had encountered alarming dreams; she had a profound conviction that something terrible was impending over her. And Tancred took her hand, to prevent, if possible, what appeared to be inevitable hysterics. But Lady Bertie and Bellair was a strong-minded woman, and she commanded herself. ‘I can bear anything,’ said Tancred, in a trembling voice, ‘but to see you unhappy.’ And he drew his chair nearer to hers. Her face was hid, her beautiful face in her beautiful hand. There was silence and then a sigh. ‘Dear lady,’ said Lord Montacute. ‘What is it?’ murmured Lady Bertie and Bellair. ‘Why do you sigh?’ ‘Because I am miserable.’ ‘No, no, no, don’t use such words,’ said the distracted Tancred. ‘You must not be miserable; you shall not be.’ ‘Can I help it? Are we not about to part?’ ‘We need not part,’ he said, in a low voice. ‘Then you will remain?’ she said, looking up, and her dark brown eyes were fixed with all their fascination on the tortured Tancred. ‘Till we all go,’ he said, in a soothing voice. ‘That can never be,’ said Lady Bertie; ‘Augustus will never hear of it; he never could be absent more than six weeks from London, he misses his clubs so. If Jerusalem were only a place one could get at, something might be done; if there were a railroad to it for example.’ ‘A railroad!’ exclaimed Tancred, with a look of horror. ‘A railroad to Jerusalem!’ ‘No, I suppose there never can be one,’ continued Lady Bertie, in a musing tone. ‘There is no traffic. And I am the victim,’ she added, in a thrilling voice; I am left here among people who do not comprehend me, and among circumstances with which I can have no sympathy. But go, Lord Montacute, go, and be happy, alone. I ought to have been prepared for all this; you have not deceived me. You told me from the first you were a pilgrim, but I indulged in a dream. I believe that I should not only visit Palestine, but even visit it with you.’ And she leant back in her chair and covered her face with her hands. Tancred rose from his seat, and paced the chamber. His heart seemed to burst.