which
had thus far upheld her suddenly gave way. She sat down on a fallen
tree, and burst into tears. Lord Curryfin sat down by her, and took her
hand. She allowed him to retain it awhile; but all at once snatched it
from him and sped towards the house over the grass, with the swiftness
and lightness of Virgil's Camilla, leaving his lordship as much
astonished at her movements as the Volscian crowd, _attonitis inhians
animis_,{2} had been at those of her prototype. He could not help
thinking, 'Few women run gracefully; but she runs like another
Atalanta.'

1 Hartleap Well.

2 Gaping with wondering minds.

When the party met at breakfast, Miss Niphet was in her place, looking
more like a statue than ever, with, if possible, more of marble
paleness. Lord Curryfin's morning exploit, of which the story had soon
found its way from the stable to the hall, was the chief subject of
conversation. He had received a large share of what he had always so
much desired--applause and admiration; but now he thought he would
willingly sacrifice all he had ever received in that line, to see even
the shadow of a smile, or the expression of a sentiment of any kind, on
the impassive face of Melpomene. She left the room when she rose from
the breakfast-table, appeared at the rehearsal, and went through her
part as usual; sat down at luncheon, and departed as soon as it was
over. She answered, as she had always done, everything that was said
to her, frankly, and to the purpose; and also, as usual, she originated
nothing.

In the afternoon Lord Curryfin went down to the pavilion. She was not
there. He wandered about the grounds in all directions, and returned
several times to the pavilion, always in vain. At last he sat down in
the pavilion, and fell into a meditation. He asked himself how it could
be, that having begun by making love to Miss Gryll, having, indeed,
gone too far to recede unless the young lady absolved him, he was now
evidently in a transition state towards a more absorbing and violent
passion, for a person who, with all her frankness, was incomprehensible,
and whose snowy exterior seemed to cover a volcanic fire, which she
struggled to repress, and was angry with herself when she did not
thoroughly succeed in so doing. If he were quite free he would do his
part towards the solution of the mystery, by making a direct and formal
proposal to her. As a preliminary to this, he might press Miss Gryll
for an answer. A