'True,' added Fotheringhame, with much sadness of tone; 'she does not forget, as some so readily can, what Motherwell calls "the love of life's young day." Thinking that, if not acting, this remark conveyed a taunt, Annabelle said: 'You seem somewhat changed in way and manner since we saw each other last.' 'If so, I have had good reason therefor.' 'You were once gay enough, and happy too.' 'Happy when you made me so; but Heaven knows, Annabelle,' he exclaimed, with sudden emotion, 'that gaiety and pleasure have long been strangers to me.' 'So duplicity brings about its own punishment,' she replied, pointedly and pitilessly. 'Duplicity?' said he, looking up with a surprise that seemed at least genuine; 'I do not understand--you slighted my visits--returned my letters----' 'Good reason had I to do so. I had hoped we might avoid this subject----' 'Reason?' he queried, as her voice broke. 'Remember your mysterious friend,' said Annabelle, bitterly; 'she was _not_ Blanche Gordon; so who was she--what was she? But I despise myself for asking!' 'She was then what she is no longer now--an unhappy creature,' was the enigmatical reply, from which Annabelle, whose pride revolted from making further inquiries, drew all kinds of singular deductions. And now, at this crisis in their conversation, the train stopped, and as an influx took place of those fresh passengers so longed for by Annabelle a short time before, it could not be resumed in any form, and the rest of the journey was performed by them in silence, or nearly so. CHAPTER III. EAGLESCRAIG ONCE MORE. Mary, in the general's snug and well-appointed old family carriage, with a stately hammer-cloth and heraldically bedecked panels, awaited Annabelle at the railway station; and though expecting Leslie Fotheringhame at the same time, and quite prepared to welcome him warmly as Cecil's friend and whilom brother officer, and though not surprised to see him arrive, she was certainly surprised to find that he and Annabelle had come _together_, and clapped her little ungloved hands merrily, as she received them, in a childlike way that almost provoked the latter, who was a proud and rather reserved girl. She coloured deeply and with positive vexation, even under the eye of her dearest friend, for thus arriving at the same time, by the same train, and in the same carriage, with Leslie Fotheringhame; and this emotion made her more shy, more resentful to him apparently, and more resolved to keep as much as possible aloof from him. And he, piqued by this, of which he was speedily conscious, conceived a vague and direful jealousy of some person as yet unknown, and it coloured his manner accordingly. For the first time, on this occasion, he saw fully the soft fair face of Annabelle, as she raised her veil, and her velvet-like lips met those of Mary. Would they ever touch his again?