but you do Miss Tresilyan less than justice, and me too much
honor. What right have you to infer that I look upon her in any other
light than a very charming acquaintance, or that she feels any deeper
interest in to-day's revelation than if she had heard unexpectedly that
any one of her friends was married? Surprises are seldom agreeable,
especially when they are so clumsily brought about. I am sure she has
not told you any thing to justify your suspicions."

Fanny was the worst casuist out. She was seldom certain about her facts,
and when she happened to be so, had not sufficient pertinacity or
confidence to push her advantage. Her favorite argument was ever _ad
misericordiam_. "I wish I could quite believe you," she said,
plaintively; "but I can't, and it makes me very unhappy. You must see
that you ought to go."

Her evident fear of him touched Royston more sharply than the most
venomous reproach or the most elaborate sarcasm could have done; but he
would not betray how it galled him. "Three days ago," he replied, "I had
almost decided on departure; now it does not altogether depend on me.
But you need not be afraid. I shall not worry you long; and while I stay
I have no wish, and, I believe, no power, to do any one any harm." She
looked at him long and earnestly, but failed to extract any farther
confession from the impenetrable face. Keene would not give her the
chance of pursuing the subject, but called up Harry to help him in
turning the conversation into a different channel and keeping it there.
Between the two they held the anxieties and curiosities of the oppressed
_mignonne_ at bay till they entered Dorade.

They were obliged to pass the Terrasse on their way home: there, alone,
under the shadow of the palms, sat Armand de Chateaumesnil. The
invalid's great haggard eyes fixed themselves observantly on Cecil
Tresilyan as she went by. He laid his hand on the major's sleeve when he
came to his side, and said, in a hoarse whisper, "Qu'as tu fait donc,
pour l'atterrer ainsi?" The other met the searching gaze without
flinching, "Je n'en sais rien; seulement--on dit que je suis marie." If
the Algerian had been told on indisputable authority that Paris and its
inhabitants had just been swallowed up by an earthquake, he would only
have raised his shaggy brows in a faint expression of surprise, exactly
as he did now. "Tu es marie?" he growled out. "A laquelle donc des deux
doit on compatir--Madame ou Mademoiselle?" Y