“That man, Mr. Ross, I mean, once forced himself into our garden, trampled down the beds, and insisted on finding madam in one of the green-houses, where he did find her, and there they talked together in a strange way. I did not hear what they said, being in another part of the garden, and old Storms there, so that I could not get closer; but his voice was loud and clear, and hers—— Well, I can’t tell you what hers was like, only there was something that went to my heart in it—tears buried out of sight since she was a girl. I should say——” “Well, Ellen, you have surprised me. Who would have thought it of her—so proud, so grandly self-possessed? I never dreamed that she could give way.” “Give way! Why, that man left her on the conservatory floor in a dead swoon,” said Ellen Post, bringing her story to a climax with thrilling dexterity. Miss Spicer sunk down on the carpet, by the billowy waves of silk that Ellen had dropped there, holding up her hands in astonishment. “Mrs. Lambert in a swoon, a down right fainting fit! I can’t believe it. Indeed, indeed, I can’t.” “You may, for I helped to bring her out, and a dreadful time we had of it. All that night long she lay like a dead woman, and never spoke a word, except one, and that was a name.” “What name, Ellen?” “Herman. I never heard it before, and I don’t know who it belongs to in the least,” answered the lady’s maid. “Herman; that is _his_ name—Herman Ross.” “Then, one thing is sure!” “What is that, Ellen?” “She loves that man.” “Ellen Post, you take away my breath!” “She loves that man. It was him she was dressing for that night, when nothing could please her.” “The night of Mrs. Carter’s party; do you mean that, Ellen?” “Of course I mean that. Never saw her so hard to please. I took off her diamonds twice, and had to put them on again at last. Never saw anything like it. In any other person I should have known the signs; but who would suspect her of wanting to please any one in particular? But it’s all clear now. We’ve settled on the right man.” “Why, Ellen, he’s going to marry this Laurence girl himself!” “What! The man _she_ loves?” “As true as I sit here—he is engaged to her! It all came out at the party. Mrs. Carter told it. This Ross is her brother, you know.” “That was what made her so white and wild. I understand it all now. That is why she kept repeating the girl’s name in her sleep, which was more like a fit than natural slumber. She has not been herself since.” “No, you are right there; she seems like one stupefied by a blow—and Ivon is not much better. He was wild as a hawk that night. Only think of it—mother and son; but it serves him right. I have no compassion for him, and all but engaged to me.” “But if she marries this Ross, all will be at an end with Mr. Ivon.”