and very powerful, too, over herself. Up to this she
had never betrayed herself. But now her courage gave way, the colour
came to her cheeks and forehead and neck, and then passed rapidly
away,--and she betrayed herself. "Does not he know it?" asked Lady
Grant. As she said the words she put out her hand and pressed
Cecilia's in her own; and the tone of her voice was loving, and
friendly, and sisterly. Though there was reproach in it, it was not
half so bitter as that which Cecilia was constantly addressing to
herself. The reproach was in her ears and not in Lady Grant's voice.
But the words were repeated before Cecilia could answer them. "Does
not he know it?"

All her hope was thus abolished. Almost from the moment of Lady
Grant's coming into the house she had taught herself to think that he
must know it. It was impossible that the two should be ignorant, and
impossible also as she thought that the sister should know it and
that he should not. But all that was now at an end. It was necessary
that she should answer her sister's question, and yet so difficult
to find words in which to do so. She attempted to speak but the word
would not come. Even the one word, "No," would not form itself on her
lips. She fell upon her knees and, burying her face in Lady Grant's
lap, thus told her secret.

"He has never heard of it?" again asked Lady Grant. "Oh, my dear.
That should not have been so;--must not be so."

"If I could tell you! If I could tell you!"

"Tell me what? I am sure there is nothing for you to tell which you
need blush to speak."

"No, no. Nothing, nothing."

"Then why should he not know? Why should he not have known? Cecilia,
you will tell him to-night before he goes to his rest?"

"No,--no. Not to-night. It is impossible. I must wait till that woman
has gone."

"Miss Altifiorla knows it?"

"Oh, yes!"

"She knows, too, that he does not know it?" This question Cecilia
answered only by some sign. "I fancied that it might be so. I thought
that there was something between you which had been kept from him.
Why, why have you been,--shall I say so foolish?"

"Yes. Yes. Yes; foolish;--oh, yes! But it has been only that. There
is nothing, nothing that is not known to all the world. The marvel is
that he should not have known it. It was in all the newspapers. But
he never thinks of trifles such as that."

"But why did you keep it from him?"

"Shall I tell you? You know the story of his own engagement."

"