Sir Aubrey Dartelle did not forget that interview; the beautiful face of the young governess haunted him. He went to the sea-shore in the hope of meeting her, but she was prudent and did not go thither. She knew Lady Dartelle's wish that she should not meet any of her visitors--above all, her son. Indeed, when the young girl thought of all that might arise from even that interview, she became frightened. Those words of Veronica's were always present to her--"he cannot marry her because she has compromised herself." She would not have Adrian see her in this, her fallen and altered state, for the whole world. More than ever she wished to hide herself under the mantle of obscurity. He believed her dead; and, in her noble, self-sacrificing love, she said it was better it should be so. Suppose that Sir Aubrey should say something to Lord Chandon about her, and he should ask to see her? She must be prudent, and not let Sir Aubrey see her again. So the baronet walked disconsolately along the shore; but the lovely face he had seen there once was not to be met again. He determined that he would see her. She evidently loved Clara, and Clara loved her. It was plain, too, that they spent all their time together. Consequently, wherever Clara went, she would go. He would propose to take the child over to Broughton Park, under the pretext of showing her the beautiful swans there. Most certainly if the child went, the governess would go. He was absorbed in his plan. Walking one morning with Lord Chandon, he was so long silent that his companion looked into his face with a smile. "What are you thinking about, Aubrey?" he asked. "I have never seen you so meditative before." The baronet laughed in his gay, careless fashion. "I have never had the same cause," he said. "I have seen a face that haunts me, and I cannot forget it." One of the peculiarities of Lord Chandon was that he never laughed after the fashion of many men, and never jested about _affaires du coeur_. There was no answering smile on his face, and he said kindly: "There is no cure for that; I know what it is to be haunted through long days and longer nights by one fair face." "My mother has such a lovely governess," said Sir Aubrey confidingly. "I have never seen a face so beautiful. It seems to me that they keep her a close prisoner, and I am quite determined to see her again." "Of what use will that be?" inquired Lord Chandon. "Her face haunts you now, you say; the chances are that if you see her again it will trouble you still more. You cannot marry her; why fall in love with her?" "I have not fallen in love with her yet," said Sir Aubrey; "but I shall if I see much more of her. As for marrying her, I do not see why I should not. She is fair, graceful, and lovely." "Still, perhaps, she is not the kind of lady you should marry. Let the little child's governess remain in peace, Aubrey. Straight ways are the best ways."