uld be almost a sin--and
so to receive his deep and fervent expressions of gratitude for her
kindness, which were reiterated at every meeting. At any rate, Zillah
was always there on the days when Lord Chetwynde wished her to be
there; and on the occasions when he visited the villa she was not
there, but was seated in the drawing-room to receive him. Obed Chute
thought that Lord Chetwynde came three times a week. Zillah knew that
he came seven times a week.

For some time this state of things had continued. Windham was the
chosen friend of Obed, and the favored guest at Obed's villa. Zillah
knew that this could not last, and used to try to check her
happiness, and reason it down. But as the hour of the tryst
approached all attempts of this kind were forgotten, and she was
there watching and waiting.

To her, one day thus waiting, Lord Chetwynde came with a sad smile on
his face, and something in his eyes which threw a chill over Zillah's
heart. They talked a little while, but Lord Chetwynde was melancholy
and preoccupied.

"You do not look well to-day," said Zillah, wonderingly, and in tones
which were full of sympathy. "I hope nothing has happened?"

Lord Chetwynde looked earnestly at her and sighed heavily.

"Miss Lorton," said he, sadly, "something has happened which has
thrown the deepest gloom over me. Shall I tell you? Will you
sympathize with my gloom? I will tell you. I have this day received a
letter giving me my appointment to a post in India, far which I have
been waiting for a long time."

"India!"

Zillah gasped this out with white lips, while her face assumed the
ashen hue of despair.

"India!" she repeated, as her great eyes were fixed in agony upon
him; and then she stopped, pressing her hand to her heart.

The anguish of that look was so intense that Lord Chetwynde was
shaken to the soul. He caught her hand in his, scarce knowing what he
did.

"Oh, Miss Lorton," he cried, "do not look so at me. I am in despair;
I am heart-broken; I dare not look at the future; but the future is
not immediate; I can yet wait a few weeks; and you will still come
here, will you not--to see me?"

Zillah caught her hand away, and her eyes fell. Tears dropped from
beneath her heavy lashes. But she said not a word.

"At any rate, tell me this," cried Lord Chetwynde, "when I am gone,
Miss Lorton, you will not forget me? Tell me this."

Zillah looked at him with her large, spiritual eyes, whose fire
seemed now