Yes, she felt that Claude Westwood had spoken quite truthfully and reasonably when he said that in affairs of the heart Nature had decreed that there shall be an automatic Statute of Limitations. He had spoken from experience, and to that theory--it sounded cynical to her at first, but now her experience had found that it was true--she was ready to give her cordial assent. To such a point had she been brought by the bitterness of her experience of the previous month, she actually believed that she wished she had failed in her constancy to the man whom she had promised to love. She was surprised to find Clare awaiting her in the breakfast-room. The girl was pale and nervous, for Agnes noticed how she gave a start when she entered. In the room there was a servant, who had brought in a breakfast-dish, but the moment she disappeared, Clare almost rushed across the room to Agnes. “Tell me what has happened,” she said imploringly. “Something has happened--something terrible; but somehow I cannot recollect what it was. I have the sensation of awaking from a horrible dream. Can it be that I fainted? Can it be that I entered the drawing-room, and that he told you to take me away? Oh, my God! If it is not a dream I shall die. 'Take her away--take her away'--those were the words which I recollect, but my recollection is like that of a dream. Why don't you speak. Agnes? Why do you stand there looking at me with such painful sadness? Why don't you speak? Say something--something--anything. A word from you will save me from death, and you will not speak it!” She flung away Agnes's hand which she had been holding, and threw herself on a chair that was at the table, burying her face in her hands. Agnes came behind her and laid her hand gently on her head. She drew her head away with a motion of impatience. “I don't want you to touch me!” she cried, almost pettishly. “I want you to tell me what has happened. Oh, Agnes, he did not cry out for you to take me away--that Would be impossible--he could never say those words!” She had sprung up from the table once more and had gone to the fireplace, against which she leant. “My poor child! My poor child!” said Agnes. “Do not say that,” cried Clare impatiently. “Your calling me that seems to me part of my dream. Good heavens! are we living in a dream?” “You have been living in one, Clare; but the awaking has come,” said Agnes. Clare looked at her with wide eyes for more than a whole minute. Her look was so vacant that Agnes shuddered. The girl gave a laugh that made Agnes shudder again, before she moved away from the mantelpiece, saying: “How is it that we haven't sat down to breakfast? I'm quite hungry.” CHAPTER XXVIII.