past."

A silence followed, and each seemed to take a hasty glance at the
other. On Zillah's face there were the traces of sorrow; its lines
had grown finer, and its air more delicate and spiritual. Lord
Chetwynde's face, on the other hand, showed still the marks of that
disease which had brought him to death's door, and no longer had that
glow of manly health which had been its characteristic at Marseilles.

[Illustration: "She Seemed Lost In Thought."]

"You have been ill," said Zillah, suddenly, and with some alarm in
her voice.

"Yes," said Lord Chetwynde, sadly; "I have been as near death as it
is possible for one to be and live."

"In England?"

"No; in Switzerland."

"Switzerland?"

"Yes."

"I thought that perhaps some private troubles in England had caused
it," said Zillah, with tones of deep sympathy, for she recollected
his last words to her, which expressed such fearful anticipations of
the future.

"No; I bore all that. It was an unexpected circumstance," he said, in
a cautious tone, "that caused my illness. But the Italian air has
been beneficial. But you--how have you been? I fear that you yourself
have been ill."

"I have had some troubles," Zillah replied.

Lord Chetwynde forbore to question her about those troubles. He went
on to speak about the air of Val d'Arno being the best thing in the
world for all illness, and congratulated her on having so beautiful a
spot in which to live. Zillah grew enthusiastic in her praises of
Florence and all the surrounding scenery; and as each learned how
long the other had been here they wondered why they had not met.

"But I," said Zillah, "have not gone often to the city since the
first week. It is so beautiful here."

"And I," said Lord Chetwynde, "have ridden all about the environs,
but have never been near here before. And even if I had, I should
have gone by it without knowing or suspecting that you were here."

Obed Chute had much to see about, and these two remained long
together. They talked over many things. Sometimes there were long
pauses, which yet were free from embarrassment. The flush on Zillah's
cheek, and the kindling light of her eye, showed a pleasure which she
could not conceal. Happiness was so strange to her that she welcomed
eagerly this present hour, which was so blight to her poor
sorrow-laden heart. Lord Chetwynde forgot his troubles, he banished
the future, and, as before, he seized the present, and enjoyed it to
th