a year ago," replied Mr. Marlow; "she is
indeed very beautiful as you say--for a woman of her period of life
remarkably so; she puts me very much in mind of my mother, whom I in the
confidence of youthful affection used to call 'my everlasting.' I
recollect doing so only three days before the hand of death wrote upon
her brow the vanity of all such earthly thoughts."

Sir Philip Hastings was satisfied. There was nothing like passion there.
Unobservant as he was in most things, he was more clear-sighted in
regard to matters of love, than any other affection of the human mind.
He had himself loved deeply and intensely, and he had not forgotten it.

It was necessary, before any thing could be concluded, to wait for Mrs.
Hazleton's rising on the following morning; and, bidding Mr. Marlow good
night with a warm grasp of the hand, Sir Philip Hastings retired to his
room and passed nearly an hour in thought, pondering the character of
his new acquaintance, recalling every trait he had remarked, and every
word he had heard. It was a very satisfactory contemplation. He never
remembered to have met with one who seemed so entirely a being after his
own heart. There might be little flaws, little weaknesses perhaps, but
the confirming power of time and experience would, he thought,
strengthen all that was good, and counsel and example remedy all that
was weak or light.

"At all events," thought the Baronet, "his conduct on this occasion
shows a noble and equitable spirit. We shall see how Mrs. Hazleton meets
it to-morrow."

When that morrow came, he had to see the reverse of the picture, but it
must be reserved for another chapter.

CHAPTER XII.

Mrs. Hazleton was up in the morning early. She was at all times an early
riser, for she well knew what a special conservator of beauty is the
morning dew, but on this occasion certain feelings of impatience made
her a little earlier than usual. Besides, she knew that Sir Philip
Hastings was always a matutinal man, and would certainly be in the
library before she was down. Nor was she disappointed. There she found
the Baronet reaching up his hand to take down Livy, after having just
replaced Tacitus.

"It is a most extraordinary thing, my dear madam," said Sir Philip,
after the salutation of the morning, "and puzzles me more than I can
explain."

Mrs. Hazleton fancied that her friend had discovered some very knotty
point in the case with Mr. Marlow, and she rejoiced, for her obj