It was a cruel thought that she must now be subject to suspicions, if not of lightness, yet of a secret attachment and stolen interviews with the object of it. Nor was the oppression of this thought at all weakened by the reflection that George Juxon, the very man whose good opinion she most valued, had seen her in a situation, and under circumstances, which he could not by any possibility interpret truly, and which her duty to Katharine forbade her to explain, however deeply her own character or happiness might suffer. In one short hour she had gathered an experience that filled her with wonder, and had incurred a suspicion that subjected her to censure and threatened her with misery. The consciousness of innocence could not restore to her the respect of Juxon, nor exempt her from the severe penalties with which the levity and imprudence of the thoughtless of her own sex are ever silently visited by the other, when some painful discovery of a woman’s guile chills and revolts them. However in her case, the judgment of Juxon had not been harsh; but, of course, when he saw a man upon his knees before her--when he considered the loneliness of their place of interview--the cloaks evidently worn for disguise--and the agitated and discomposed appearance of Jane Lambert--he, at once, decided that she was betrothed to a lover, whom for fear or for shame she dared not openly avow. He had truly liked Jane, for her spirit, her sense, and, above all, for her devotion to Katharine Heywood; and his liking might soon have grown to a manly love,--but the flow of his admiration was now suddenly checked and frozen, and he whistled “Woman’s a Riddle” all the way to Warwick and back again. CHAP. XIV. O how full of briars is this working-day world! _As you Like it._ As soon as the affectionate Jane had entirely recovered her self-possession, she left her chamber, and repaired to Katharine. It was the dark evening hour of autumn, and there was no light in the room of the invalid but that emitted from the glowing embers on the hearth. Jane seated herself by the bedside, and, taking the hand of Katharine, gently pressed it, and said,-- “My dear Kate, I have done all that you wished; and I have sped well.” “You have, then, seen Francis?” “Yes; I put your note into his own hands. He was much affected; but he promised obedience to your wishes at once.” Katharine gave a sigh, and turned her face to the wall. There was a short pause of silence before Jane proceeded:-- “He bade me tell you that his father and your kinsfolk in America are well; and that the immediate object of his return is the love of his country.”