up-stairs, and Mrs Tremayne was at that moment alone. She offered
to send for her young guests, but he declined; he wished first to speak
with her apart. He told her that Don Juan had gone to London; and that
before leaving him, that estimable young gentleman had frankly
communicated the interesting fact that he was bound by an engagement to
a lady of his own country.

"Now what think you? Were it better, or worser, that Blanche should
know the same?"

"Better far--by all manner of means," said the Rector's wife decidedly.

"I thought even so," replied Sir Thomas. "I had come sooner, but my
wife was contrary thereto."

Mrs Tremayne could not feel astonished to hear of any amount of
unwisdom on the part of Lady Enville, but she merely repeated that she
thought it much better that Blanche should know.

"It should help to open her eyes. Though in sooth I do think they be
scantly so close shut as at the first."

"Then you will tell the child, good Mistress?"

"If you so desire, assuredly: but wherefore not give her to wit
yourself?"

Sir Thomas evidently shrank from the idea.

"For Blanche's sake, I do think it should be better, Sir Thomas. You
speak as he that hath heard this right from Don Juan himself; for me, I
have but heard it from you."

"Well, if needs must--for Blanche's sake, then," said her father,
sighing. "Pray you, send the child hither."

In another minute Blanche came in, with a warm welcome for her father in
eyes and voice.

"So thou comest home to-morrow, my skylark!" he said. "Art thou glad,
or sorry, Blanche?"

"Oh, glad, Father!"

"And all we be glad likewise.--Blanche, Don John is gone to London."

"Yes, I guessed so much," she answered, in a rather constrained tone.

"And ere he went, my darling, he said somewhat unto me which I reckon it
best thou shouldst hear likewise."

Blanche looked up, surprised and expectant,--perhaps with a shade of
fear. Sir Thomas passed his arm round her, and drew her close to him.
He anticipated a burst of tears, and was ready to console her.

"He told me, dear heart, that he is, and for divers years hath so been,
troth-plight unto a maiden of his own land, with whom he shall wed when
he is gone home."

There was no light in the room but from the fire, and Blanche's head was
bent low, so that her father could not see her face. But no tears
answered him. No answer came at all. Sir Thomas was astonished.

"Doth it grieve thee, my Blanc