a favourite; but the moment he spoke of Caroline her manner changed.  She became as reserved as she had previously been warm; and when the young Earl frankly asked her if the refusal of her parents had been the only bar to her union with the Viscount, she referred him to Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton.  That she was aware of something to Caroline’s disadvantage appeared very evident, and that she was not the favourite she had been last year equally so.  St. Eval left her more disturbed than ever, and it was on returning from his long yet hurried ride he had sought his sister in the mood we have described.

Lady Gertrude listened with earnest attention.  The tale startled her, but she disliked the very sight of Lord Alphingham; she believed him to be a bad, designing man.  She felt convinced Caroline did love her brother, much as appearances were against her; and both these feelings urged her to sift the whole matter carefully, and not permit the happiness of two individuals to be sacrificed to what might be but the idle invention or exaggerations of a bad man.  Her ready mind instantly formed its plan, which calmly but earnestly she imparted to her brother, and implored his consent to act upon it.  Startled and disturbed, St. Eval at first peremptorily refused; but his sisters’s eloquence at length succeeded.

Early in the morning of the succeeding day Caroline Hamilton received the following brief note: 

“Will you, my dear Caroline, receive me half an hour this afternoon?  I have something important to say; I have vanity enough to believe as it concerns me it will interest you.  We shall be more alone at your house than mine, or I might ask you to come to me.

“Yours affectionately,

“GERTRUDE LYLE.”

Completely at a loss to understand the meaning of this little note, Caroline merely wrote a line to say she should be quite at Lady Gertrude’s service at the appointed time; and so deeply was she engrossed in the sad tenour of her own thoughts, that all curiosity as to this important communication was dismissed.

Three o’clock came and so did Lady Gertrude, whose first exclamation was to notice Caroline’s unusual paleness.

“Do not heed my looks, dear Gertrude, I am perfectly well; and now that you are before me, overwhelmed with curiosity as to your intelligence,” said Caroline, whose heavy eyes belied her assurance that she was quite well.

“Dearest Caroline,” said Lady Gertrude, in a tone of feeling, “I am so interested in your welfare, that I cannot bear to see the change so evident in you; something has disturbed you.  Show me you consider me your friend, and tell me what it is.”

“Not to you, oh, not to you; I cannot, I dare not!” burst involuntarily from the lips of the poor girl, in a tone of such deep distress, that Lady Gertrude felt pained.  “Gertrude, do not ask me; I own I am unhappy, very, very unhappy, but I deserve to be so.  Oh, I would give worlds that I might speak it, and to you; but I cannot—­will not!  But do not refuse me the confidence you offered,” she added, again endeavouring to smile, “I can sympathise in your happiness, though I refuse yours in my sadness.”