The idea did not approve itself quite so strongly to Lord Caerleon as to his wife, and his comments opened her eyes to a truth which she had successfully hidden from herself hitherto. Her relief sprang chiefly from the hope that, after all, Félicia might not marry Usk. With Lady Caerleon, to discover such a piece of self-deception was instantly to impose punishment, and while she still suggested to Usk that he should extend his travels, she confessed plainly that the idea was inspired by Maimie, and sprang from a suspicion that Félicia did not really care for him. She added also that his father and she left the matter entirely to his own discretion, and this intimation had the unlooked-for result that Usk promptly cancelled his remaining engagements in America, and sailed for home by the very first steamer. It was with the greatest reluctance that he had left Félicia in her trouble to the care even of his mother, but it had comforted him to feel that he was doing something for her in seeing her father’s body laid in the grave he had chosen. The extension of his exile he had accepted with some unwillingness, feeling that he could trust himself to be near Félicia without forcing his hopes upon her in her time of grief. However, if his presence would embarrass her, if she did not know him well enough to trust him, he was content to stay away. But this last menace to his happiness was too much. He must know the worst. If Félicia did not love him, it was better to hear it from her own lips, and bear it like a man, than wander about the American continent tortured with uncertainty, and murmuring, “She loves me--loves me not,” like a girl pulling a daisy to pieces.