“You do not remember me,” said the new-comer; “which, perhaps, is not wonderful. I left Fareham four years ago, Miss Goulburn; but I think I cannot be mistaken in you. You were only a child then; and now!--but still I think it is you: and perhaps you will remember my name--Charley Ashton? I went to India----” “Yes, I recollect. Are you going home now to--to Fareham?” Helen said, with fright in her eyes. “That we should meet here of all places in the world! Yes, I am on my way home; and there is all about the cathedral in Murray, and besides, there is a bit of engineering I wanted to see, and I had a day to spare,--what a lucky chance for me! You, I suppose, are making the grand tour, as it used to be called. Travelling, like necessity, makes one acquainted with strange quarters. This is not much like Fareham, is it?” he said, with a laugh. That careless, happy laugh, without thought of evil! Helen looked at, admiring it as an old man might have done. “No; we are only here--for a little while.” She knew by instinct that this would be their last night at Sainte-Barbe, and that she must not encourage any renewal of acquaintance. The young man gazed at her with such a look of kindly inquiry, almost tender in the sympathy that mingled with it, that Helen felt the tears come to her eyes. He divined that there was something to be sorry for, and he was ready to be sorry and to sympathise, whatever the trouble might be--though the troubles, he said to himself with a smile, of the rich man’s daughter were not likely to be very hard to bear. “That is like my luck,” he said; “unless you are going back to England, which would be the best of all. Then I should ask leave to follow in your wake. There is no one now to care much when I get home; a day or two sooner or later doesn’t matter. My mother is not there now to mind. And to tell the truth, Miss Goulburn,” said young Ashton, “I am just as glad to put off the first plunge. Poor old father! I daresay he’ll be glad to see me; but to find _her_ not only gone, but with another in her place!” “Poor Mr Ashton was so lonely,” said Helen, coming out of her own troubles for one moment, “and Miss Temple is so kind: it does you good to speak to her. She never meant any harm. She was so sorry for him--do not be angry with Miss Temple. I think I love her,” the girl said, the tears slowly gathering in her eyes, “better--oh yes, a great deal better than any one--than any other woman in the world.”