'If you are disposed to take a philosophical view of what has certainly crushed my pride--if I ever had any--and sorely wounded my self-esteem--nay more, has caused, I am willing to own, a great pang to my heart--so am I, Captain Fotheringhame. Our acquaintance, to call it by its least name, has been a most unfortunate one; so, if we talk at all, perhaps we may find another subject.' And she continued to look straight before her, with her face half averted, and thankful that she had a veil--at least the Shetland screen--to conceal the proud and passionate tears that welled up in her blue and handsome eyes. Meanwhile Mary, remembering Fotheringhame's awkward revelation so recently, was watching the pair with more anxiety than hope or exultation, and was perhaps a little surprised to see them gradually quit the terrace and descend to the shrubbery walk in the garden below. 'When will our consultation about Cecil begin!' she thought, a little petulantly and impatiently. 'If a separation from one we love, though short, is hard to bear, what must such as mine from Cecil be?' He might die in that distant land--how dreadful to consider such a contingency!--and in dying, never know of the good fortune that awaited him at home, of who his family were, and the bright hope that now smiled upon his love for her! Meanwhile those she had been watching were now in a sequestered walk. 'You have suffered, Annabelle,' said Fotheringhame, in an agitated voice, as he turned and confronted her; 'I can read it in your face.' 'If I have suffered, sir, it has been through you.' 'Oh, say not so,' he exclaimed in a prayerful way. 'Sir--your manner--your mode of conduct, bewilder me!' she exclaimed, as she was about to sweep away, when he strove to take her hand, but she withdrew, it sharply and defiantly. 'Annabelle!' he said reproachfully. 'How dare you--how can you be so persistently cruel?' she cried haughtily, while cresting up her head. There were no tears in her eyes or voice now. 'Cruel, Annabelle?' There was the old charm in his voice, and she could not resist it. 'Why was that letter--my last to you--returned to me unopened?' 'Because, Captain Fotheringhame, I thought it right to do so.' She was gazing at him now steadily and defiantly. 'Had you read that letter it would have explained all.' 'Who the mysterious "F.F." is, or was.' 'Yes,' said he sadly, with a peculiar inflection of voice. 'Enough of this,' said Annabelle, haughtily; 'I leave you and all your interests to the--the lady whose likeness is in your valued locket.' 'You do? If I have been guilty of aught, in your eyes, you will certainly forgive me when you look upon her face.' 'Your intended! permit me to pass, Captain Fotheringhame--surely I have been subjected to mockery and insult enough to satisfy even you!'