The entrance of the young nobleman and those who accompanied him had caused one of those pauses which are very common in--I might say peculiar to--English society. Amongst foreigners in general, a stranger can enter, glide in amongst the other guests, speak with those he knows, pass those who are strangers, and be introduced to this person or to that, without interrupting the occupations or amusements going on. If his rank be very high, or his character very distinguished, a slight murmur, a hardly perceptible movement, and a few seconds of observation, form all that is produced by his appearance; but here such is not the case; and, unless the conversation going forward be very entertaining indeed, or the amusement in progress very exciting, a long silence follows the introduction of any personage worthy of note, during which he is well aware that every body is observing and commenting upon him. Such had been in a great degree the case in the present instance. For the first five minutes, nobody had spoken but Chartley, Iola, Constance, their uncle, and Sir Edward Hungerford. But, at the end of that time, each of the many guests resumed his conversation with his neighbour; and Chartley had a better opportunity of saying a few words, which he did not wish heard, to Constance, while the busy buzz of tongues prevailed around. "I am happy, dear lady," he said, as soon as he had made sure of the moment, "to see you looking so well. I wish I could say the same of your sweet cousin. She looks pale, anxious, and thoughtful." He paused as if for an answer, but Constance merely replied, "she does not look well indeed." "I fear," continued Chartley, "that terrible night she passed in the forest, with all the alarm that she must have felt, was too much for her fair and delicate frame. I did my best, believe me, to comfort and protect her; but my best was but little, and she must have suffered much." "I do not think that had any effect," replied Constance. "Her health has ever been strong and unimpaired--" she stopped for an instant, fearful of being led on to say more than she intended, and then added; "but she certainly looks ill. She speaks, however, my lord, with great gratitude of the kindness which you showed her, on that terrible night, which I shall never think of without dread." "Gratitude!" said Chartley, with a smile. "Kindness! Dear lady, she must have formed a very unfavourable opinion of mankind, if she thought there was any gentleman who would not do the same." "But it may be done in very different ways, my noble lord," answered Constance; "and she assured me that you treated her as if you had been a brother." Chartley murmured to himself in a low tone, "Would that I could have felt as one!" The sounds were hardly articulate; but they caught the ear of his companion, and the whole secret was revealed at once. She cast down her eyes in painful thought, from which she was roused the moment after by Chartley saying, almost in a whisper,