“I hope I am!” said Miss Fane, in rather a serious tone. “I wish I could also he mistaken in my suspicions of the mode in which Albert spends his time. He is sadly changed. For the first month that we were here he seemed to prefer nothing in the world to our society, and now--I was nearly saying that we had not seen him for one single evening these three weeks. I cannot understand what you find at this house of such absorbing interest. Although I know you think I am much mistaken in my suspicions, still I feel very anxious. I spoke to Albert to-day; but he scarcely answered me; or said that which it was a pleasure for me to forget.” “Mr. St. George should feel highly gratified in having excited such an interest in the mind of Miss Fane.” “He should not feel more gratified than all who are my friends; for all who are such I must ever experience the liveliest interest.” “How happy must those be who feel that they have a right to count Miss Fane among their friends!” “I have the pleasure then, I assure you, of making many happy, and among them, Mr. Grey.” Vivian was surprised that he did not utter some complimentary answer; but he knew not why, the words would not come; and instead of speaking, he was thinking of what had been spoken. “How brilliant are these gardens!” said Vivian, looking at the sky. “Very brilliant!” said Miss Fane, looking on the ground. Conversation seemed nearly extinct, and yet neither offered to turn back. “Good heavens! you are ill,” exclaimed Vivian, when, on accidentally turning to his companion, he found she was in tears. “Shall we go back, or will you wait here? Can I fetch anything? I fear you are very ill!” “No, not very ill, but very foolish; let us walk on,” and, sighing, she seemed suddenly to recover. “I am ashamed of this foolishness; what can you think? But I am so agitated, so nervous. I hope you will forget--I hope--” “Perhaps the air has suddenly affected you; shall we go in? Nothing has been said, nothing happened; no one has dared to say or do anything to annoy you? Speak, dear Miss Fane, the, the--” the words died on Vivian’s lips, yet a power he could not withstand urged him to speak, “the, the, the Baron?” “Ah!” almost shrieked Miss Fane. “Stop one second; an effort, and I must be well; nothing has happened, and no one has done or said anything; but it is of something that should be said, of something that should be done, that I was thinking, and it overcame me.” “Miss Fane,” said Vivian, “if there be anything which I can do or devise, any possible way that I can exert myself in your service, speak with the most perfect confidence; do not fear that your motives will be misconceived, that your purpose will be misinterpreted, that your confidence will be misunderstood. You are addressing one who would lay down his life for you, who is willing to perform all your commands, and forget them when performed. I beseech you to trust me; believe me, that you shall not repent.”