Mrs. Poynsett was tremulous and agitated, and grief had evidently told on her high spirit, so that Julius could make no objection, but promised to do his best.

By the time it was possible to Julius to call, Sir Harry and Miss Vivian were out riding, and he had no further chance till at the gaslit Friday evening lecture, to which he had hurried after dinner.  A lady became faint in the heated atmosphere, two rows of chairs before him, and as she turned to make her way out, he saw that it was Eleonora, and was appalled by seeing not only the whiteness of the present faintness, but that thinness and general alteration which had changed the beautiful face so much that he asked himself for a moment whether she could have escaped the fever.  In that moment he had moved forward to her support; and she, seeming to have no one belonging to her, clung to the friendly arm, and was presently in the porch, where the cool night air revived her at once, and she begged him to return, saying nothing ailed her but gas.

“No, I shall see you home, Lena.”

“Indeed, there is no need,” said the trembling voice, in which he detected a sob very near at hand.

“I shall use my own judgment as to that,” said Julius, kindly.

She made no more resistance, but rose from the seat in the porch, and accepted his arm.  He soon felt that her steps were growing firmer, and he ventured to say, “I had been looking for you to-day.”

“Yes, I saw your card.”

“I had a message to you from my mother.”  Lenore trembled again, but did not dare to relax her hold on him.  “I think you can guess what it is.  She thinks poor Frank must have mistaken what you said.”

“No—­I wrote it,” said Lena, very low.

“And you really meant that the resolution made last year is to stand between you and Frank?  I am not blaming you, I do not know whether you may not be acting rightly and wisely, and whether you may not have more reason than I know of to shrink from intrusting yourself to Frank; but my mother cannot understand it, and when she sees him heartbroken, and too unwell to act for himself—­”

“Oh! is he ill?”

“He has a very bad cold, and could not get up till the afternoon, and he is deafer than ever.”

Lena moaned.

He proceeded:  “So as he cannot act for himself, my mother begged me to come to an understanding.”

“I told him to judge,” said Lena faintly, but turning Julius so as to walk back along the parade instead of to her abode.

“Was not that making him his own executioner?” said Julius.

“A promise is binding,” she added.

“Yet, is it quite fair?” said Julius, sure now which way her heart went, and thinking she was really longing to be absolved from a superstitious feeling; “is it fair to expect another person to be bound by a vow of which you have not told him?”

“I never thought he could,” sighed she.