All this was a hint, if not distinct intelligence, to Mrs. Hazleton. She saw that a change of feeling, or at least a change of purpose, had taken place, and that Lady Hastings felt embarrassed by a consciousness which she might or might not choose to communicate. Mrs. Hazleton remained the same, however, and rather enjoyed the hesitation which she perceived than otherwise. She was not without that proud satisfaction which persons of superior mind feel, in witnessing the effects upon weak people of causes which would not give them a moment's trouble. Difficulties and complexities she had been so much accustomed to overcome and to unravel, that she had learned to feel a certain triumphant joy in encountering them. That joy, indeed, would have been changed to despair or rage if she had ever dreamed of being frustrated; but success had made her bold, and she loved to steer her course through agitated waters. "Well, my dear friend," she said, with the sweet tones of her voice falling from her lips like drops d liquid honey, "You do not seem quite so well to-day. I hope this business which you were to undertake has not agitated you, or perhaps you have not executed your intention; it could be very well put off till you are better." This was intended to lead to confession; for from a knowledge of Lady Hastings' character, a strong suspicion arose that she had not found courage to carry through the little drama which had been planned between them, and that she was now ashamed to confess her want of resolution. Lady Hastings remained silent, playing with her rings, and Mrs. Hazleton, a little angry--but very little--gave her one of those delightful little scratches which she was practised in administering, saying, "No one knew any thing about your intentions but myself, so, no one can accuse you of weakness or vacillation." "I care very little," said Lady Hastings (most untruly) "of what people accuse me. I shall of course form my own resolutions from what I know, and execute them or not, dear Mrs. Hazleton, according to circumstances, which are ever changing. What is inexpedient one day may be quite expedient the next." Now no one was more fully aware than Mrs. Hazleton that expediency is always the argument of weak minds, and that changing circumstances afford every day fair excuses to men and to multitudes for every kind of weakness under the sun. Her belief was strengthened, that Lady Hastings had not acted as she had promised to act, and she replied with an easy, quiet, half-pitying smile, "Well, it is not of the slightest consequence whether you do it now or a week hence, or not at all. The worst that could come would be Emily's marriage with Marlow, and if you do not care about it, who should? I take it for granted, of course, that you have not acted in the matter so boldly and decidedly as we proposed."