"If I did not quite always, I at any rate mostly tried to. Had I been by inclination one of the wildest of men, events would have surely sobered me. My acquaintance with Lucy, the love for her that grew up in my heart, would have served to keep me steady; and since then there has been that most dreadful blow and its attendant sorrow. But I was not wild by inclination: quite the contrary. On my word, Colonel Cleeve, I have not gone into the reckless vice and folly that some men go into; no, not even in my days of youth and carelessness. I can truly say that I have never in my life done a wrong thing but I have been bitterly ashamed of it afterwards, whatever its nature; and--and--have asked forgiveness of God." His voice died away with the last hesitating sentence. That he was asserting the truth as before Heaven, Colonel Cleeve saw, and judged him rightly. He took Karl's hands in his: he felt that he was one amid a thousand. "God keep you, for a true man and a Christian!" he whispered. "I could not desire one more worthy than you for my daughter." When they reached the drawing-room, Lucy was there: Lucy, who had not joined in the late dinner for some time past. She wore pink silk; she had a transient colour in her face, and her sweet brown eyes lighted up at sight of Karl. As he bent low to speak to her, Theresa Blake covered her brow, as though she had a pain there. "Madame est servie." Sir Karl advanced to Mrs. Cleeve, as in duty bound. She put him from her with a smile. "I am going on by myself, Karl. Lucy needs support, and you must give it her. The Colonel has to bring Miss Blake." And as Karl took her, nothing loth, under his arm, and gave her the support tenderly, Miss Lucy blushed the rosiest blush that had been seen in her face for many a month. Mademoiselle Aglaé, superintending the arrangement of the round table, had taken care that their seats should be side by side. Theresa's fascinated eyes, opposite, looked at them more than there was any need for. "Lucy has got a prize," whispered the Colonel to her, as she sat on his right hand. "A prize if ever there was one. I have been talking to him about that matter, Theresa, and he comes out nobly. And--do you see how changed Lucy is, only in this one day? how well and happy she looks? Just think! it was only this time last night that his note was brought in." Miss Blake did see. Saw a great deal more than was agreeable; the unmistakable signs of mutual love amidst the rest. Her own feelings were changing: and she almost felt that she was not far off hating her heart's cherished idol, Karl Andinnian, with a jealous and bitter and angry hatred. But she must wait for that. Love does not change to hate so quickly.