Ruth felt that it was now or never for a warning cough; but, as she glanced at Charles kneeling beside her, she could not give it. Surely they would pass out in another second. The thought of the two pairs of eyes which would be raised, and the expression in them was intolerable. "Grace," said Lady Hope-Acton, with dreadful distinctness, advancing to meet her daughter, "has he spoken?" "No," said Lady Grace, with a little sob; "and,"--with a sudden burst of tears--"oh, mamma, I don't think he ever will." Oh, to have coughed, to have sneezed, to have choked a moment earlier! Anything would have been better than this. "Run up-stairs this moment, then, and change your habit and bathe your eyes," said Lady Hope-Acton, sharply. "You need not come down till dinner-time. I will say you are tired." And then, to the overwhelming relief of those two miserable spectators, the mother and daughter left the door. But to the momentary sensation of relief in Ruth's mind a rush of pity succeeded for the childlike grief and tears; and with and behind it, like one hurrying wave overtopping and bearing down its predecessor, came a burning indignation against the cause of that picturesque emotion. It is indeed a lamentable peculiarity of our fallen nature that the moment of relief from the smart of anxiety is seldom marked by so complete a mental calmness and moderation as could be wished. Ruth rose slowly, with the book still in her hand, and Charles got off his knees as best he could, and stood with one hand on the railing of the balcony, as if to steady himself. His usually pale face was crimson. Ruth closed the book in silence, and with a dreadful precision put it back in its accustomed place. Then she turned and faced him, with the western light full upon her stern face, and another light of contempt and indignation burning in her direct eyes. "Poor little girl," she said, in a low distinct voice. "What a triumph to have succeeded in making her unhappy. She is very young, and she did not understand the rules of the game. Poor, foolish little girl!" If he had been red before, he was pale enough now. He drew himself up, and met her direct gaze without flinching. He did not speak, and she left him standing in the window, and went slowly along the balcony and down the little staircase into the room below. As she was about to leave the room he moved forward suddenly, and said, "Miss Deyncourt!" Involuntarily she stopped short, in obedience to the stern authority of the tone. "You are unjust." She did not answer and left the room. CHAPTER XVIII. "Uncle John," said Ruth next morning, taking Mr. Alwynn aside after breakfast, "we are leaving by the early train, are we not?" "No, my love, it is quite impossible. I have several papers to identify and rearrange." "We have stayed a day longer than we intended as it is. Most of the others go early. Do let us go too."