Left in the hall with her cousin, and her uncle's guests, Iola felt some relief in the numbers who were present. Fulmer would fain have enacted the lover's part; nor was he indeed at all unfitted to do so; for his heart was naturally warm and impetuous, and Iola's beauty and grace might well have kindled the flame of love in a colder breast than his own. Strange human nature, too, would have it, that the doubts and apprehensions which had arisen in his mind should render him only the mere eager to overcome anything like coldness upon her part; and he strove, with soft speeches and low-toned words, to win her ear to himself alone. The result was not favourable. Iola listened calmly, coldly, and ever replied aloud, in words which all the world might hear. She did so, not upon any plan or system indeed, but from the feelings which were busy in her own heart, and the impressions which his words produced. She was contrasting them all the time with those of Chartley; and to her mind, at least, the comparison was unfavourable. The frank gay manner, the lively half-careless answer, the want of all study and formality, the shining forth of a heart that, like a gay bird, seemed made captive in spite of itself, which had all pleased, excited, won her in Chartley, was not to be found in the conversation or demeanour of Lord Fulmer. Between her and him there were but few subjects in common; the only one, indeed, being that from which she shrunk away with apprehension. He could but have recourse to the common places of love and admiration; and they were not at all fitted to win her. It was his misfortune indeed, and not his fault; but yet we often aggravate our misfortunes by our faults; and so it was in some degree with Fulmer. He had dreamed bright dreams of their meeting; and, little knowing woman's heart, he had fancied that she would do the same, that she would look forward with the same hopes to their union, that her heart unwooed would spring to meet his; and he was disappointed, mortified, somewhat irritated, to find that it was not so. Worse, in the end he showed such feelings in his manner, and by an impatient look and tone, caused Iola to shrink from him still more coldly. It was just at that moment that old Lord Calverly returned, saying aloud-- "Our other guests are coming. They are just at the castle gates. Now, Constance," he continued, for his lordship would sometimes venture an insipid joke, "now, Constance, if you would win a rich and noble husband, put on your brightest smiles." "Who may he be, my lord?" asked Constance, who as well as Iola was ignorant of the names of the persons expected. "Nay, nay, you will see," said Lord Calverly. "Did not his young lordship tell you?" "No, indeed!" answered Constance quietly; "but I can wait in patience, my good lord. Time brings all things to light."