"I think, sir, you might tell it for yourself, that. She has not been well since that fever. She was not well before the fever, since--since about the month of May." He drew in his lips. Aglaé, with native independence, continued to stare at him. "Why don't you call and see her, sir?" "Because--well, I suppose you know, Aglaé. I should not be welcome to Colonel and Mrs. Cleeve." "And the poor young lady, who never did harm to living soul, is to be let shrink down into her grave for the sake of English prejudice! _I_ can see. I've got my wits about me, and have seen it all along. My service to you, sir. Bon jour." The maid went on in a rage, her dainty cap nodding, her smart boots going down rather more noisily than was needful. Sir Karl passed on his way, thinking deeply. He walked about until the daylight was fading, and then strode back rapidly to his hotel, with the air of a man who is about to carry out some resolution that will not wait. _He_ was. A resolution that had been floating in his mind before he' saw Lucy or encountered her maid. Colonel Cleeve was seated alone that evening in his dining-room in the Avenue d'Antin, when a letter was delivered to him. For a few minutes he let it lie unheeded. The thoughts he was buried in were very sad ones--they ran on the decaying strength of his only daughter. It seemed to him and Mrs. Cleeve that unless some wonderful change--say a miracle, for instance--interposed, Lucy's life was not worth many weeks' purchase. They knew now--he and his wife--that the parting with Karl Andinnian had been too cruel for her. Arousing himself from his gloomy visions, the Colonel opened the note--which had been left by hand. Why here was a strange thing!--he started in surprise. Started when he saw the contents of the letter and the signature appended. Had the miracle come? It was one of the plain, candid, straightforward letters, so characteristic of Karl Andinnian. He said that he had chanced to see Miss Cleeve that day, that he had been shocked by her appearance; that he had happened to hear from Aglaé subsequently how very alarmingly she was failing. He went on to add with shrinking deprecation, every word of which told of the most sensitive refinement, that he feared the trouble of last May might have had something to do with it, and be still telling upon her. He then put a statement of his affairs, as to possessions and income, before Colonel Cleeve, and asked whether he might presume again to address Lucy now that he could offer a good settlement and make her Lady Andinnian. Three times over Colonel Cleeve read the note, pausing well to reflect between each time. Then he sent for his wife. "He is of no family--and there's that dreadful slur upon it besides," remarked the Colonel, talking it over. "But it may be the saving of Lucy's life." "It is a good letter," said Mrs. Cleeve, reading it through her eye-glass.