fool of myself. That
was the man to whom I was once engaged." "What, Mr. Crosbie?" said
Emily, who had heard the whole story from Bernard. "Yes, Mr. Crosbie;
pray, do not say a word of it to anybody,--not even to your aunt. I
am better now, but I was such a fool. No, dear; I won't go into the
drawing-room. I'll go upstairs, and come down ready for dinner."

When she was alone she sat down in her habit, and declared to herself
that she certainly would never become the wife of Mr. Crosbie. I do
not know why she should make such a declaration. She had promised
her mother and John Eames that she would not do so, and that promise
would certainly have bound her without any further resolutions on
her own part. But, to tell the truth, the vision of the man had
disenchanted her. When last she had seen him he had been as it were a
god to her; and though, since that day, his conduct to her had been
as ungodlike as it well might be, still the memory of the outward
signs of his divinity had remained with her. It is difficult to
explain how it had come to pass that the glimpse which she had had
of him should have altered so much within her mind;--why she should
so suddenly have come to regard him in an altered light. It was not
simply that he looked to be older, and because his face was careworn.
It was not only that he had lost that look of an Apollo which Lily
had once in her mirth attributed to him. I think it was chiefly that
she herself was older, and could no longer see a god in such a man.
She had never regarded John Eames as being gifted with divinity, and
had therefore always been making comparisons to his discredit. Any
such comparison now would tend quite the other way. Nevertheless
she would adhere to the two letters in her book. Since she had seen
Mr. Crosbie she was altogether out of love with the prospect of
matrimony.

She was in the room when Mr. Pratt was announced, and she at once
recognised him as the man who had been with Crosbie. And when, some
minutes afterwards, Siph Dunn came into the room, she could see that
in their greeting allusion was made to the scene in the Park. But
still it was probable that this man would not recognise her, and, if
he did so, what would it matter? There were twenty people to sit down
to dinner, and the chances were that she would not be called upon to
exchange a word with Mr. Pratt. She had now recovered herself, and
could speak freely to her friend Siph, and when Siph came and st