The meal was got through in oppressive silence. To be sure, the presence of the servants acted as a barrier to anything like conversation; but every one felt on this occasion that there was something more. Even the child and the very servants seemed oppressed by that indescribable gloom which all felt but none could understand. The luncheon over, Madeline rose with a sigh of infinite relief, and ordered the carriage. The rain had ceased to fall, but the sky still looked threatening, and the drive did not prove to be a pleasant one. Still it seemed to Madeline that anything would be better than sitting in the house all the afternoon tormented by her own wretched thoughts. Presently, however, as she was putting on her hat, the thought occurred to her that it might be well for her to seek another interview with Belleisle. When, therefore, she descended the stairs she merely kissed the child, who was standing half expecting to be invited to go, and entered the carriage alone. She drove straight to Regent Street, made one or two trifling purchases, then she ordered her coachman to take a few turns round the park. The season was rapidly drawing to a close; many families had already betaken themselves to the country, and most of those who lingered were busily preparing to go. Still, in spite of this, there were still enough people left to make a tolerable show in the Row, and Madeline had not been ten minutes in the drive before she was greeted with many gracious smiles and bows. Suddenly, however, her heart gave a great throb, then seemed to stand still, for her eyes rested upon the very form she sought. Could it be possible? Yes, there he was on horseback, on a sorry hack sicklied o’er with the shade of the livery stable, and accompanied by two young ladies in green riding-habits and hats composed of peacocks’ feathers. The three horses were walking, and the three riders seemed heedless of everything but each other. The great and cosmic creature was holding forth, while the two girls were gazing upon him in rapt devotion. Madeline felt her cheek grow crimson, for it seemed to her as if every soul about her suddenly read her secret. She bent forward to speak to her coachman, and met the Frenchman’s eye; his face became suddenly irradiated, he politely lifted his hat as the carriage passed him; but she felt herself utterly unable to make any sign in return.