'Cameron, of the Black Watch, whom I had the pleasure of meeting at Dundargue--you remember,' said Sir Paget, playing with the stem of his champagne-glass, and not daring to look at Eveline, whose white hand he saw trembling as she toyed with her grapes. 'Oh--oh--indeed--and the young lady----' 'Had "Mrs. Cameron" painted on all her luggage--great Indian overlands, some of it.' '_Mrs. Cameron_,' repeated Lady Aberfeldie, whose aristocratic face shone in spite of herself at these tidings, while Lord Aberfeldie looked flushed and perplexed, and like Allan, who pitied his poor sister, remained silent. This astounding intelligence was to poor Eveline as 'the last straw' to the over-laden camel; she betrayed no outward emotion, though her heart and spirit were completely broken down, for a phase of duplicity which she could never have conceived was now suddenly laid bare to her. When, with her aunt and cousin, she retired to the drawing-room, the latter pressed her hand affectionately and caressingly, while the former, too proud or too prudent to refer to what they had just heard so greatly to her satisfaction, sat in a shady corner and slowly fanned herself in silence with a great round feather fan. An emotion of jealous spite at young Cameron, with rivalry, passion, and ambition to possess a young, beautiful, and highly-born wife, all now inspired Sir Paget, who, to do him justice in the anecdote he had told, had told no more than the truth, and, for the happiness of Evan Cameron, we are sorry to say it. But though now permitting herself quietly to drift with the stream of events, and to become a tool in the hands of others, it was impossible for Eveline, when with Sir Paget in the grounds, or when alone in the drawing-room, not to shrink from his now privileged caresses and attentions; thus once she shocked him by saying, as she withdrew her hands from his clasp, 'Oh, Sir Paget, do you really mean to marry a woman who does not and never can love you?' 'Do not say "never can." How can we know what the future may have for me--for _us_, my dear girl?' 'Who, indeed, save One!' sighed the girl, wearily. 'I would rather have half your heart than the whole of any other woman's,' said Sir Paget, gallantly, while recapturing her hands, and jerking out his head in turtle fashion. 'My whole heart,' thought Eveline, 'is--oh, no--was full of Evan, but can have no vacant corner for any other, especially such a man as this.' And even while she thought this she shivered as if with cold, when in right of his new position he caressed her.