Walford, pale to the lips with surprise and chagrin, looked incredulously in the face of the fair girl by whose side he was seated. He was completely staggered. The idea of his being indifferent to his cousin had never for a single instant occurred to him. He had won for himself the reputation of being quite a "lady-killer;" and now this little country-bred girl had the impertinence to tell him coolly that she did not love him; nay, more--to hint pretty strongly that she regarded him with feelings not very far removed from contempt, because, forsooth, he had lived a somewhat fast life. Why, many of the girls he had met had positively _admired_ him for his rakishness--he did not pause to consider what manner of girls these were, though, by the bye. It was monstrous, it was positively insulting. Then, in addition to the severe wound to his _amour-propre_, there was the disappointment of his hopes of pecuniary aggrandisement; Lucy's fortune, modest though it was, would have been of the utmost service to him. It was true, he knew, that she would not have a penny of her own until her mother died, but that, he was firmly convinced, would not be a very long-postponed event; the "old fool"--as he called Mrs Walford in his heart--would doubtless be in her grave long enough before he returned from foreign service-- and, at all events, he was willing to risk that. But then Lucy had said she would not have him. Surely she could not mean it; she was only saying it to try him, or--stay--was it possible that she loved that sailor-fellow Leicester? He would find out. "Are you _quite sure_, Lucy, that you will never be able to love me?" he asked, infusing a very successful affectation of passionate entreaty into the tones of his voice. "Perhaps I have spoken too quickly; I have taken you by surprise, I have allowed my impatience to outrun my judgment; perhaps if I had waited a little longer--" "It would have been just the same; I could never have loved you," interrupted Lucy. "And now let us return to the house; this interview has lasted quite long enough. I am sincerely sorry if you are disappointed, Edward, but I could never give you any other answer, so please say no more about it." "One word more," exclaimed Walford. "Tell me--I have a right to know-- do you love any one else?" "I really do not see that you _have_ a right to know anything about my private affairs," answered Lucy with some hauteur, "but in order that you may fully understand the hopelessness of your own case, I will confess that--that there _is_--some one else." "Ah!" ejaculated Walford between his set teeth, "I suspected as much. And I can form a pretty shrewd guess as to who it is, too. It is that sneaking rascal Leicester, is it not?"