You're the only person that I breathed a word to
about it. Supposing you just keep quiet, now, especially to James
Harrington. It might do mischief there if you said a word, and I'm sure
you wouldn't want to do that. Only think of a daughter of mine almost
falling in love with one of them matadore fellows. I tell you it makes
my blood boil--but you wont say a word. Poor Lucy would die of shame if
you did.'

"'I certainly shall not mention the man to any one,' I answered.

"'That's a good soul. I was sure we might depend on you. Now I'll go and
tell Lucy. She's been crying like a baby ever since we come home. I
wonder if the fellow will have the impudence to follow us again. The
Duke! The impostor, I say,--to look like a nobleman and not be one.'

"How fussy and disagreeable the woman is. But I am too weary for much
thought of her or any thing else indeed, yet I cannot sleep.

"Mrs. Harrington lay on the low couch which was her favorite resting
place during the day, and I sat beside her reading aloud a new English
novel that Miss Eaton had lent me. Presently James came in, and making
me a sign not to stop, sat down near one of the windows, as if to listen
to the story; but when I glanced at him, I saw by his face that his
thoughts were leagues away from any consciousness of the words my voice
pronounced.

"I suppose I had no right to wonder whither his fancies had strayed, but
I could not help it; and when I looked at him again, I knew that it was
no idle reverie which had possession of him, but stern, absorbing
thought, for his face looked hard and cold as it so often had done of
late.

"I almost lost the consciousness of what I was reading, in the rush of
odd fancies that came over my mind. My voice must have grown careless
and indistinct, for I heard Mrs. Harrington say:--

"'Don't read any more, Mabel; I am sure you are tired.'

"I felt myself start and color; I colored all the more from annoyance at
feeling my cheeks begin to glow, and I could hear that I answered
constrainedly:

"'No; I am not tired.'

"'I know by your voice, my dear,' Mrs. Harrington said with her usual
thoughtfulness for others. 'It was selfish in me, I should not have
allowed you to read so long, but I was so interested in the story that I
forgot.'

"I closed the book; it was always very difficult for me to read aloud
with any listener besides herself, but she seemed so troubled at what
she considered her selfishness, that I said t