"Yes, it is very true," said Cleve, "my uncle _is_ dead, and we shall prove it, that is, my uncle Kiffyn will. But you are quite right to distinguish as you do. It involves nothing for me. Since it has come so near, I have lost all faith in it's ever reaching me. I have, I can't call it a conviction, but a _superstition_, that it never will. I must build my own fortunes from their foundations, with my own hand. There is but one success on earth that can make me very proud and very happy. Do you think, that having come all this way, in that hope, on that one chance, that Margaret will see me?" "I wish you had written to me before coming," said Anne Sheckleton, after a little pause. "I should have liked to find out first, all I could, from herself; she is so odd. I've often told you that she _is_ odd. I think it would have been wiser to write to me before coming over, and I should have talked to her,--that is, of course, if she had allowed me,--for I can't in the least say that she would even hear me on the subject." "Well," said Cleve, with a sigh, "I have come--I am here--and go I cannot without seeing her--I cannot--and you, I think, are too kind to wish that I should. Yes, Miss Sheckleton, you have been my true friend throughout this--what shall I call it?--wild and terrible dream--for I cannot believe it real--I wonder at it myself--I ought to wish I had never seen her--but I cannot--and I think on the result of this visit depends the whole course of my life. You'll not see me long, I think, in the House of Commons, nor in England; but I'll tell you more by-and-by." The sun had gone down now. A red and melancholy glow, rising from piles of western cloud, melted gradually eastward into the deep blue of night in which the stars were already glimmering. Along one of the broad avenues cut through the forest that debouches upon the court-yard of the quaint old château they were now walking, and, raising his eyes, he saw Margaret approaching from the antique house. CHAPTER XI. SHE COMES AND SPEAKS. "SHE is coming, Mr. Verney," said Miss Sheckleton, speaking low and quietly; but her voice sounded a little strangely, and I think the good-natured spinster was agitated. Cleve, walking by her side, made no answer. He saw Margaret approach, and while she was yet a good way off, suddenly stop. She had not seen them there before. There seemed no indecision. It was simply that she was startled, and stood still. "Pray, Miss Sheckleton, do you go on alone. _Entreat_ her not to refuse me a few minutes," said he. "I will--she shall--I will, indeed, Mr. Verney," said Miss Sheckleton, very much fidgetted. "But you had better remain where we were, just now; I will return to you, and--there are some French servants at the house--will you think me very strange--unkind, I am sure, you will _not_--if I say it is only common prudence that you should not be seen at the house? You understand why I say so."