bservation of her.

So at the dinner-table she used to sit, looking at him, when his eyes
were turned away, with her earnest, devouring gaze, which, as soon as
he would look at her again, was turned quickly away with the timidity
of a young bashful child. Such is the tenderness of love that Hilda,
who formerly shrank at nothing, now shrank away from the gaze of this
man. Once, by a great effort, as he entered the dining-room she held
out her hand to greet him. Lord Chetwynde, however, did not seem to
see it, for he greeted her with his usual distant civility, and
treated her as before. Once more she tried this, and yet once again,
but with the same result; and it was then that she knew that Lord
Chetwynde refused to take her hand. It was not oversight--it was a
deliberate purpose. At another time it would have seemed an insult
which would have filled her with rage; now it seemed a slight which
filled her with grief. So humiliated had she become, and so
completely subdued by this man, that even this slight was not enough,
but she still planned vague ways of winning his attention to her, and
of gaining from him something more than a remark about the weather or
about the dishes.

At length one day she formed a resolution, which, after much
hesitation, she carried out. She was determined to make one bold
effort, whatever the result might be. It was at their usual place of
meeting--the dinner-table.

"My lord," said she, with a tremulous voice, "I wish to have an
interview with you. Can you spare me the time this evening?"

She looked at him earnestly, with mute inquiry. Lord Chetwynde
regarded her in some surprise. He saw her eyes fixed upon him with a
timid entreaty, while her face grew pale with suspense. Her breathing
was rapid from the agitation that overcame her.

"I had some business this evening," said Lord Chetwynde, coldly, "but
as you wish an interview, I am at your service."

"At what time, my lord?"

"At nine," said Lord Chetwynde.

Nine o'clock came, and Hilda was in the morning-room, which she had
mentioned as the place of meeting, and Lord Chetwynde came there
punctually. She was sitting near the window. Her pale face, her rich
black locks arranged in voluminous masses about her head, her dark
penetrating eyes, her slender and graceful figure, all conspired to
make Hilda beautiful and attractive in a rare degree. Added to this
there was a certain entreaty on her face as it was turned toward him,
an