Whilst my voice thus rang out, harshly and unnaturally, across the table, I felt the dark eyes of Bruce Armytage were regarding me from the other end, and I wished I had the courage to stare him down, but I had not. By-and-by, however, when he was again engaged in conversation, I tried to let my eyes rove in his direction, as though I were an uninterested hearer, but the moment that they reached him, he raised his own as if by intuition, and my lids dropped again. I hated myself for this indecision, though I felt it was but nervousness, and that were we alone together but for five minutes I should have strength of mind to look him in the face, and tell him what I thought of his behaviour. As it was, however, it was a great relief to me when the doctor gave the order to march, and the whole party adjourned to the drawing-room. As soon as we had entered it, Amy left her lover’s side and flew to mine. “Oh, Lizzie,” she whispered as we sat in a corner together, “do tell me what you think of him! I am dying to hear. Is he not very handsome?” “Very handsome,” I answered with closed lips. “Much better looking than his cousin?” “Yes, certainly; there is no comparison between them,” which was true, inasmuch as Frederick Armytage, with his fair hair and blue eyes, was a washed-out, sickly-looking creature by the side of his dark, stalwart cousin Bruce. “I knew you would say so, Lizzie; I was sure you would agree with me. But just fancy your having met Bruce before! Where was it, and when? I couldn’t ask you a lot of questions at tea-time, but you made me so curious.” “Amy,” I said suddenly, for I felt this was a subject on which she must not be inquisitive, “when I knew Mr. Bruce Armytage, I was living at home with my dear father and mother at Fairmead, and you must be aware that an allusion to those days cannot be a pleasant allusion to me. So, please, like a dear girl, don’t ask me any more questions about it, or let me remember that I ever saw your friend before I met him here to-night.” “I won’t,” said Amy, submissively. “Poor, dear Lizzie!” and she stroked my hand with her soft little palm. “And do not mention me to him, either. Our acquaintance was but a brief one: he can have no interest left in the matter.” “Oh, but he has though, Lizzie,” with a shy upward glance. “He was talking about you all tea-time; his cousin and I thought he would never stop. He asked where you were, and what you were doing, and seemed so sorry when I told him of Lady Cunningham, and what a cross old thing she is, and said several times that he could not get over the surprise of having met you here to-night.”