Was now the same to all men--and that was not so before."

We suppose that there was now "heavy passion in her walk," whoever the
man might be that approached her.

"And grosser signs, _far grosser_ I remember now; but these
I miss'd of course, and counted _with those light anomalies,
Too frequent to disturb us into searching for their keys_."

These misgivings, which might have ripened into suspicions, are suddenly
swept away by a stroke of duplicity on the part of his mistress,
inconceivable in any woman except one inclined naturally, and without
any prompting, to practise the profoundest artifices of vice.

"Even the dreadful glimpses now began to fade away,
And disappear'd completely, when my Lilian asked one day,
If I knew what reason Winton had to make so long a stay

"In England--'For,' said Lilian, with untroubled countenance,
'Winton of course has told you of the love he left in France.'
I seized her hand, and kiss'd it--joy had left no utterance."

Winton, according to the account of the false Lilian, having _a love_ in
France, could not, of course be supposed to be paying court to her. Thus
the lover is thrown off the scent, and his doubts are entirely laid
asleep. He is again in the seventh heavens of assured love, and
continues thus:--

"Another calm so perfect I should think is only shed
On good men dying gently, who recall a life well led,
Till they cannot tell, _for sweetness_, if they be alive or dead.

"_I'll stop here._ You already have, I think, divined the rest.
There's a prophetic moisture in your eyes:--yet, tears being blest
And delicate nutrition, apt to cease, too much suppress'd,

"_I'll go on_; but less for your sake than my own:--my skin is hot,
And there's an arid pricking in my veins; their currents clot:
Tears sometimes soothe such fever, where the letting of blood will
not."

At length his eyes are opened, and the whole truth flashes upon him, on
overhearing an acquaintance ask Winton whether his suit with Lilian has
been successful. Upon this he writes out his opinion of the lady's
behaviour, presents it to her, and watches her while she peruses it,
occupying himself at intervals as follows:--

"I turn'd a volume, waiting her full leisure to reply,
The book was one which Winton had ask'd me to read, and I
Had stopp'd halfway for horror, _lest my soul should putrify_."

When Lilian