"I bowed as coldly as politeness would allow, but the Countess put our her hand in cordial greeting, and begged me to take a seat with them for the rest of the morning. I murmured something about owing my time to the Burtons, and, after a few indifferent remarks (explaining how Miss Ferrers had decided not to go to Spain), was on the point of withdrawing, when the Countess said, 'At least, Mr. Erle, we shall see you at the castle'; and not until I had promised to come to her the next day would she let me go. As I turned, a light hand was laid upon my arm for an instant, and I heard an eager whisper, 'Gerald! what does this mean? I am here for your sake;--but I kept on my way as if I had not heard, and breathed freely again at Lillie's bridle-rein. "Why should I describe the rest of the day to you? You see already how it had to end. I was with Lillie all day long, as happy as a king, though a little shocked when I heard at dinner that Nathan was sold to Sir Francis. But the day had been full of joy; and when all its festivities were over, and we drove home from the ball, it seemed as if no cloud hung over me. "The Burtons went to the barn to care for the horses, and I was alone with Lillie by the great table. I asked her very simply if she would be my wife, and she told me that I asked in vain. "'Even if I loved you, Mr. Erle,' she went on,--'even if I loved you, I could not be your wife. You are a gentleman, and I am a farmer's daughter; and you know even better than I do that we could not be happy very long. You will be glad some day that I did not lead you into such sore trial.' "Some such words as these were the last words I ever heard from Lillie Burton's mouth, for the men came in, and she left the room; and as she passed me that night, dressed in a gown of softest white, her exquisite head bent in sorrow and tenderness, her eyes radiant through their tears, I saw her for the last time. We have never met, even for an instant, since." * * * * * Mr. Erle ceased speaking, and I gave a great sigh of relief. His last words had been uttered with so much feeling that neither my grandfather nor I could interrupt the long silence, as he sat looking dreamily into the fire. When at length he spoke, it was of an entirely different subject, and, after half an hour's conversation, he drank a last glass of the old wine, and bade us good night, wringing my grandfather's hand with more than usual warmth. I waited almost impatiently until I heard the house-door close, and then, "Who is Mrs. Erle?" I asked. "Who do you suppose?" my grandfather answered. "No one. How should I?" "And yet you heard Mr. Erle tell the part about the Countess?" "Yes." "And you do not guess what happened?" "No. I dare say I am very stupid; but do tell me," I begged.