"The glimpse I had caught of her face had rekindled the old fire in my heart. She was a beautiful, elegant, fair woman. The very beau ideal of my long dream of love, and should yet be my wife, if it were possible for me to make her so. "With some trepidation, I asked my mother what position she filled at the Hall, and whose child it was she held in her arms? "'I cannot exactly answer your question,' she said. 'She is neither regarded as a servant, nor yet as one of the family. She is generally in attendance upon my lady, and takes care of her little grandson.' "'To which of her sons does the child belong?' "'To the youngest, Captain Edward, who is now at the Hall. His young wife died in child-bed, and people talk largely of his admiration for his mother's pretty _protégée_.' "I sprung from my chair. 'Mother, mother!' I cried. 'Do you mean to drive me mad? This low village tattle is unworthy of you.' "'I fear that there is some truth in these reports,' said my mother quietly. 'Alice used to speak to me when we met, and make affectionate inquiries about her old playfellow; but for the last three months, she passes me without recognition.' "'That looks strange. But however appearances may be against her, I cannot and I will not believe anything to her discredit even from your lips.' "I seized my hat, and walked up the road at an excited pace, and never slackened my speed, till I reached a stile that led through the park. "I don't know what took me in that direction. I was unconscious of the fact, until I found myself there. It was the last spot in the world in my then mood, to which I should have bent my steps. But once there, the place seemed congenial to my feelings. "I crossed the stile and plunged into a wilderness of shade, glad to find myself in gloom and solitude. "After a while, the dark grove widened, the sunlight pierced the branches and danced upon the ground, and leaving trees and shadows behind, I emerged into an open lawn-like space as smooth and green, as velvet turf and moss could make it, and reclining under the one huge oak, that towered up like a giant in the centre, I saw her whom I least expected to see, and who at that moment occupied all my thoughts. "The recognition was mutual. But when I called her by name and hurried forward to meet her, she started up like a frightened doe and fled. "I did not follow; my mind was distracted with doubt. A jealous agony filled my soul. I staggered to the spot she had occupied, threw myself beneath the tree, and burying my face in my hands wept long and bitterly. "In this abandonment of grief and love, a voice, a man's voice, whispered near me: "'Alice, my dear Alice.'