“Ah,” said Lottie, lifting to him eyes which seemed to swim in a haze of light; “to give up everything would be so---- I don’t know what you mean,” she added hastily, in a half-terrified tone. As for Captain Temple, he was quite bewildered, and did not know what to think. “Need I explain, my dear, what I mean? There can be but one thing that all your friends are thinking of. This new relation, this new connection. I could not sleep all night for thinking of you, in the house with that woman. My poor child! and my wife too. You were the last thing we talked of at night, the first thing in the morning----” “Ah,” said Lottie again, coming back to reality with a long-drawn breath. “I was not thinking of her; but I understand you now.” Lottie had, however, some difficulty in thinking of _her_, even now; for one moment, being thus recalled to the idea, her countenance changed; but soon came back to its original expression. Her eyes were dewy and sweet--a suspicion of tears in them like the morning dew on flowers with the sunshine reflected in it, the long eyelashes moist, but the blue beneath as clear as a summer sky; and the corners of her mouth would run into curves of smiling unawares; her face was not the face of one upon whom the cares of the world were lying heavy, but of one to whom some new happiness had come. She was not thinking of what he was saying, but of something in her own mind. The kind old Captain could not tell what to think; he was alarmed, though he did not know why. “Then it is not so bad,” he said, “as you feared?” “What is not so bad? Things at home? Oh, Captain Temple! But I try not to think about it,” Lottie said hastily, with a quiver in her lip. She looked at him wistfully, with a sudden longing. “I wish--I wish--but it is better not to say anything.” “You may trust to me, my dear; whatever is in your heart I will never betray you; you may trust to me.” Lottie’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at him, but she shook her head. They were not bitter tears, only a little bitter-sweet of happiness that wanted expression, but which she dared not reveal. If she could but have told him! If Rollo, failing her father, would but come and speak to this kind and true friend! But she shook her head. She was no longer free to say and do whatever pleased her out of her own heart. She must think of _him_; and while he did not speak, what could she say? She put out her hand to her old friend again with a little sudden artifice unlike Lottie. “I have been out all the morning,” she said; “I must make haste and get back now.”