And now that she stood on the hill top, and had only, she knew, to raise her finger and beckon, she was bewildered. Lord Verner had called at Barton Hall twice since that memorable meeting, and had on the second occasion evinced marked admiration of Amy, such as could not be mistaken, notwithstanding that he knew her position, for he had signified as much. If even her lowly birth and her poverty had not scared Earl Verner away, she knew well enough that her wealth would only enhance her beauty and attractions. What delicious revenge to marry Lionel’s brother, and to make the chance of a coronet for him all the more remote! And yet, how she had loved this man! How fervently, how fondly? Did he know how much? She asked herself the question, and then blushed at the remembrance of a hundred little acts in which she had disclosed it to him. Had he encouraged her love? She asked herself that question, too; and then she recalled softly whispered compliments, and delicately hinted regrets that society should not welcome beauty into its ranks without requiring that it should be backed with ancestry. And above all, she remembered a time when he told her a simple narrative, how the brother of a noble earl had loved a beautiful maiden, a farmer’s daughter, and how when he had made a name beyond that which mere rank could give, he came back and married her; and how, upon that occasion, he had kissed her and pressed her hand, and left her bathed in tears of joy and fear. And yet, without a word he had left her; without even telling her that he loved her; not even giving her the consolation of hope. She had been too confiding, weak, silly, and he had treated her accordingly: he should see how Amy _Tallant_ would requite him. She was walking to and fro, with her earnest eyes looking out into the new, strange future, when a servant brought her the card of Mr. Arthur Phillips. “Tell him I will see him. Show him into the library.” Arthur began to apologise for calling at such a time, but Amy silenced him at once by telling him she had desired to see him; and, full of her own purposes and feelings, she said:-- “Have you heard from Lionel Hammerton?” “I have,” said Arthur. “Pray excuse me if I appear inquisitive or rude. I have ample reasons for going a little beyond what may seem courteous under the circumstances. Does he mention me in his letter?” “He does not,” said Arthur, quietly. “Have you heard from him more than once?” “Only once,” said Arthur. “Does he mention Barton Hall? Pray, be plain with me: on your honour, as a gentleman?” “Yes, he does,” said Arthur. “How? does he send any message?” “He desires to be remembered to Miss Tallant.” “Meaning Phœbe, of course?” “Yes,” said Arthur. “And he does not refer to me in any way?” “No,” said Arthur. “Did you see him before he left England?” “I did.” “Did he take leave of you? did he bid you good-bye?” “He did,” said Arthur.