other. These two thus stood before him as a standing menace, an
ever-threatening danger in that path from which other dangers had
been removed at such a hazard and at such a cost. What could he do?
Nothing. It was for Hilda to act in this emergency. He himself was
powerless. He feared also that Hilda herself did not realize the full
extent of her danger. He saw how abstracted she had become, and how
she was engrossed by this new and unlooked for feeling which had
taken full possession of her heart. One thing alone was possible to
him, and that was to warn Hilda. Perhaps she knew the danger, and was
indifferent to it; perhaps she was not at all aware of it; in any
case, a timely warning could not possibly do any harm, and might do a
great deal of good. Under these circumstances he wrote a few words,
which he contrived to place in her hands on the morning when Lord
Chetwynde arrived. The words were these:

"_Mrs. Hart is recovering, and the doctor hopes that she will soon be
entirely well_."

Hilda read these words gloomily, but nothing could be done except
what she had already decided to do. She burned the note, and returned
to her usual meditations. The arrival of Lord Chetwynde soon drove
every thing else out of her mind, and she waited eagerly for the time
for dinner, when she might see him, hear his voice, and feast her
eyes upon his face.

On descending into the dining-room she found Lord Chetwynde already
there. Without a thought of former slights, but following only the
instincts of her own heart, which in its ardent passion was now
filled with joy at the sight of him, she advanced toward him with
extended hand. She did not say a word. She could not speak. Her
emotion overpowered her. She could only extend her hand and look up
into his face imploringly.

Lord Chetwynde stood before her, cold, reserved, with a lofty hauteur
on his brow, and a coldness in his face which might have repelled any
one less impassioned. But Hilda was desperate. She had resolved to
make this last trial, and stake every thing upon this. Regardless,
therefore, of the repellent expression of his face, and the coldness
which was manifested in every lineament, she determined to force a
greeting from him. It was with this resolve that she held out her
hand and advanced toward him.

But Lord Chetwynde stood unmoved. His hands hung down. He looked at
her calmly, yet coldly, without anger, yet without feeling of any
kind. As she approac