ess. He joined Godolphin, and said,--

"You must forgive me, my dear Godolphin, for not apprising you before of
Lady Erpingham's arrival at Rome. But a delight is perhaps the greater
for being sudden."

The word Erpingham thrilled displeasingly through Godolphin's veins; in
some measure it restored him to himself. He bowed coldly, and muttered
a few ceremonious words; and while he was yet speaking, some stragglers
that had belonged to Lady Erpingham's party came up. Fortunately,
perhaps, for the self-possession of both, they, the once lovers, were
separated from each other. But whenever Constance turned her glance to
Godolphin, she saw those large, searching, melancholy eyes, whose power
she well recalled, fixed unmovingly on her, as seeking to read in her
cheek the history of the years which had ripened its beauties--for
another.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

DIALOGUE BETWEEN GODOLPHIN AND SAVILLE.--CERTAIN EVENTS
EXPLAINED.--SAVILLE'S APOLOGY FOR A BAD HEART.--GODOLPHIN'S CONFUSED
SENTIMENTS FOR LADY ERPINGHAM.

"Good Heavens! Constance Vernon once more free!"

"And did you not really know it? Your retreat by the lake must have been
indeed seclusion. It is seven months since Lord Erpingham died."

"Do I dream?" murmured Godolphin, as he strode hurriedly to and fro the
apartment of his friend.

Saville, stretched on the sofa, diverted himself with mixing snuffs on a
little table beside him. Nothing is so mournfully amusing in life as
to see what trifles the most striking occurrences to us appear to our
friends.

"But," said Saville, not looking up, "you seem very incurious to know
how he died, and where. You must learn that Erpingham had two ruling
passions--one for horses, the other for fiddlers. In setting off for
Italy he expected, naturally enough, to find the latter, but he thought
he might as well export the former. He accordingly filled the vessel
with quadrupeds, and the second day after landing he diverted the tedium
of a foreign clime with a gentle ride. He met with a fall, and was
brought home speechless. The loss of speech was not of great importance
to his acquaintance; but he died that night, and the loss of his life
was! for he gave very fair dinners--ah,--bah!" And Saville inhaled the
fragrance of a new mixture.

Saville had a very pleasant way of telling a story, particularly if it
related to a friend's death, or some such agreeable incident. "Poor Lady
Erpingham was exceedingly shocked; and well