e versatility,
observed as she came up to them--

"The clouds be a-gathering, Dona Blanca. Methinks there shall be rain
ere it be long."

"How now, Meg?--whither away?" asked Blanche, with as much calmness as
she could assume; but she was by no means so clever an actor as her
companion.

"Father calleth thee, Blanche, from Mother's bower."

"How provoking!" said Blanche to herself. Aloud she answered, "Good; I
thank thee, Meg."

Blanche sauntered slowly into the boudoir. Lady Enville reclined in her
chair, engaged again with her comedy, as though she had said all that
could be said on the subject under discussion. Sir Thomas stood leaning
against the jamb of the chimney-piece, gazing sadly into the fire.

"Meg saith you seek me, Father."

"I do, my child."

His grave tone chilled Blanche's highly-wrought feelings with a vague
anticipation of coming evil. He set a chair for her, with a courtesy
which he always showed to a woman, not excluding his daughters.

"Sit, Blanche: we desire to know somewhat of thee."

The leaves of the play in Lady Enville's hand fluttered; but she had
just sense enough not to speak.

"Blanche, look me in the face, and answer truly:--Hath there been any
passage of love betwixt Don John and thee?"

Blanche's heart gave a great leap into her throat,--not perhaps
anatomically, but so far as her sensations were concerned. She played
for a minute with her gold chain in silence. But the way in which the
question was put roused all her better feelings; and when the first
unpleasant thrill was past, her eyes looked up honestly into his.

"I cannot say nay, Father, and tell truth."

"Well said, my lass, and bravely. How far hath it gone, Blanche?"

Blanche's chain came into requisition again. She was silent.

"Hath he spoken plainly of wedding thee?"

"I think so," said Blanche faintly.

"Didst give him any encouragement thereto?" was the next question--
gravely, but not angrily asked.

If Blanche had spoken the simple truth, she would have said "Plenty."
But she dared not. She looked intently at the floor, and murmured
something about "perhaps" and "a little."

Her father sighed. Her mother appeared engrossed with the play.

"And yet once tell me, Blanche--hath he at all endeavoured himself to
persuade thee to accordance with his religion? Hath he given thee any
gifts, such as a cross, or a relic-case, or the like?"

Blanche would have given a good deal to run awa