He found her gazing steadily at him, her chin on her hand. Being caught,

she reddened and looked, away. He took the man's privilege, and

continued to gaze, and she to flush; and presently, 'What are you

looking at?' she said, moving uneasily.

'A most beautiful face,' he answered, with the note of sincerity in his

voice which a woman's ear never fails to appreciate.

She rose and curtsied low, perhaps to hide the tell-tale pleasure in her

eyes. 'Thank you, sir,' she said. And she drew back as if she intended

to leave him.

'But you are not--you are not offended, Julia?' 'Julia?' she answered, smiling. 'No, but I think it is time I relieved

your Highness from attendance. For one thing, I am not quite sure

whether that pretty flattery was addressed to Clarissa--or to Pamela.

And for another,' she continued more coldly, seeing Sir George wince

under this first stroke--he was far from having his mind made up--'I see

Lady Dunborough watching us from the windows at the corner of the house.

And I would not for worlds relieve her ladyship's anxiety by seeming

unfaithful to her son.' 'You can be spiteful, then?' Soane said, laughing.

'I can--and grateful,' she answered. 'In proof of which I am going to

make a strange request, Sir George. Do not misunderstand it. And yet--it

is only that before you leave here--whatever be the circumstances under

which you leave--you will see me for five minutes.' Sir George stared, bowed, and muttered 'Too happy.' Then observing, or

fancying he observed, that she was anxious to be rid of him, he took his

leave and went into the house.

For a man who had descended the stairs an hour before, hipped to the

last degree, with his mind on a pistol, it must be confessed that he

went up with a light step; albeit, in a mighty obfuscation, as Dr.

Johnson might have put it. A kinder smile, more honest eyes he swore he

had never seen, even in a plain face. Her very blushes, of which the

memory set his blasé blood dancing to a faster time, were a character

in themselves. But--he wondered. She had made such advances, been so

friendly, dropped such hints--he wondered. He was fresh from the

masquerades, from Mrs. Cornely's assemblies, Lord March's converse, the

Chudleigh's fantasies; the girl had made an appointment--he wondered.

For all that, one thing was unmistakable. Life, as he went up the

stairs, had taken on another and a brighter colour; was fuller, brisker,

more generous. From a spare garret with one poor casement it had grown

in an hour into a palace, vague indeed, but full of rich vistas and rosy

distances and quivering delights. The corridor upstairs, which at his

going out had filled him with distaste--there were boots in it, and

water-cans--was now the Passage Beautiful; for he might meet her there.

The day which, when he rose, had lain before him dull and

monotonous--since Lord Chatham was too ill to see him, and he had no one

with whom to game--was now full-furnished with interest, and hung with

recollections--recollections of conscious eyes and the sweetest lips in

the world. In a word, Julia had succeeded in that which she had set

herself to do. Sir George might wonder. He was none the less in love.




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