“So that man of learning, that marvellous prodigy, that walking cyclopaedia, Lord St. Eval, has absolutely deserted us, to bury himself in Italy or Switzerland.  Miss Hamilton, can you explain so wonderful and puzzling an enigma?” mischievously demanded Lord Henry D’Este, one day, as he found himself alone near Caroline.  His friend’s departure had indeed been to him a riddle, and believing at length that it must have originated in her caprice, he determined, whenever he had an opportunity, to revenge St. Eval by doing all in his power to torment her.  A deep blush overspread Caroline’s cheeks as he spoke, for except that Mary Greville’s letters had mentioned him, he was never spoken of at home.

“It ought not to appear a very puzzling riddle to you,” she answered quickly.  “He has gone, I should imagine, to collect fresh matters for reflection, that he may better deserve the title you have bestowed upon him.”

“Nay, nay, surely he has enough of such matters to form four and twenty good folio volumes,” answered Lord Henry, laughing.  “The art of politeness he certainly has failed to retain, for you can have no idea what a brusque philosopher he is.  I assure you, he terrified me the last time I saw him.  What your honourable father had done to him I know not, but I met him just coming from Berkeley Square, and all the charms he had lately invited around him had suddenly departed, he was a different man, and that day, in a fit, I suppose, of spleen, he quits London, and the next time I hear of him he is in Geneva:  that noble Lord is one of the strangest creatures I ever had the honour to know.  However, perhaps he has visited the Continent to learn politeness, and I think he may chance to learn a lesson of love also.  Not at all unlikely, by the praises he bestows in his letters on a certain Louisa Manvers.”

In vain Caroline struggled to prevent a start, or her cheek from suddenly paling.  “Louisa Manvers,” she repeated, almost unconsciously.

“Yes, do you know her? by the bye, she must be some distant connection of yours, I fancy; her brother is Lord Delmont, he inherited the title from your maternal grandfather.  St. Eval and Delmont were college chums, and, though they are parted, retain all the romantic enthusiasm of friendship.  After spending some little time with your friends I believe, at Geneva, the lone pilgrim bent his steps to Lago Guardia, and there he has remained, wooing nature with his friend, and in all probability playing the devoue to Miss Manvers.  We shall find Lord St. Eval bringing home a fair Italian bride, before we are aware of it; that is to say, if she will have the courage to pore through the deep and hidden treasures of this volume, till she comes to the magic word heart.”

He might have continued, for Caroline, buried in her own miserable thoughts, interrupted him not.  Had she encountered the eyes of Lord Henry, as they were fixed full of mischief upon her, she might have made some effort to rouse herself, but as it was, she felt relieved and glad when their tete-a-tete was interrupted by the entrance of a merry group, just returned in the highest spirits from exploring a thick and mazy wood in the vicinity of the extensive grounds.