"Ethelrida," Zara whispered hurriedly--"don't--don't ask me anything about it, please, dear. No one can help me. I must come through with it alone--but you of Tristram's own family, and especially you whom he loves so much, I don't want you ever to misjudge me. You think perhaps I have made him unhappy. Oh, if you only knew it all!--Yes, I have. And I did not know, nor understand. I would die for him now, if I could, but it is too late; we can only play the game!" "Zara, do not say this!" said Ethelrida, much distressed. "What can it be that should come between such beautiful people as you? And Tristram adores you, Zara dear." "He did love me--once," Zara answered sadly, "but not now. He would like never to have to see me again. Please do not let us talk of it; please--I can't bear any more." And Ethelrida, watching her face anxiously, saw that it wore a hopeless, hunted look, as though some agonizing trouble and anxiety brooded over her. And poor Zara could say nothing of her other anxiety, for now that Ethelrida was engaged to her uncle her lips, about her own sorrow concerning her little brother, must be more than ever sealed. Perhaps--she did not know much of the English point of view yet--perhaps if the Duke knew that there was some disgrace in the background of the family he might forbid the marriage, and then she would be spoiling this sweet Ethelrida's life. And Ethelrida's fine senses told her there was no use pressing the matter further, whatever the trouble was this was not the moment to interfere; so she turned the conversation to lighter things, and, finally, talked about her own wedding, and so the time passed. The Dowager Lady Tancred was too proud to ask any one any questions, although she talked alone with Lady Anningford and could easily have done so: the only person she mentioned her anxiety to was her brother, the Duke, when, later, she spoke a few words with him alone. "Tristram looks haggard and very unhappy, Glastonbury," she said simply, "have you anything to tell me about it?" "My dear Jane," replied the Duke, "it is the greatest puzzle in the world; no one can account for it. I gave him some sound advice at Montfitchet, when I saw things were so strained, and I don't believe he has taken it, by the look of them to-night. These young, modern people are so unnaturally cold, though I did hear they had got through the rejoicings, in fine style." "It troubles me very much, Glastonbury--to go abroad and leave him looking like that. Is it her fault? Or what--do you think?" "'Pon my soul, I can't say--even the Crow could not unravel the mystery. Laura Highford was at Montfitchet--confound her--would come; can she have had anything to do with it, I wonder?"