soon after the men had gone down, to
see an undergraduate slowly approaching her down the long and silent
avenue. He was tall and well made, and his face would have been a
pleasant one, but for the deep look of sadness which clouded it. He
hesitated and took off his cap as she came near, and returning his
salute, she would have passed him, but he stopped her and said:

"Lady De Vayne."

Full of surprise she looked at him, and with his eyes fixed on the
ground he continued, "You do not know my name; if I tell you, I fear you
will hate me, because I fear you will have heard calumnies about me.
But may I speak to you?"

"You are not Mr Bruce?" she said with a slight shudder.

"No; my name is Edward Kennedy. Ah, madam! do not look at me so
reproachfully, I cannot endure it. Believe me, I would have died--I
would indeed--rather than that this should have happened to Lord De
Vayne."

"Nay, Mr Kennedy, I cannot believe that you were more than thoughtless.
I have very often heard Julian Home speak of you, and I cannot believe
that his chosen friend could be so vile as some reports would make you."

"They are false as calumny itself," he said passionately. "Oh, Lady De
Vayne, none could have honoured and loved your son more than I did; I
cannot explain to you the long story of my exculpation, but I implore
you to believe my innocence."

"I forgive you, Mr Kennedy," she said, touched with pity, "if there be
anything to forgive; and so will Arthur. A more forgiving spirit than
his never filled any one I think. Excuse me, it is time for me to
return to him."

"But will you not let me see him, and help you in nursing him? It was
for this purpose alone that I stayed here when all the others went. Let
me at least be near him, that I may feel myself to be making such poor
reparation as my heedlessness requires."

She could hardly resist his earnest entreaty, and besides, she was won
by compassion for his evident distress.

"You may come, Mr Kennedy, as often as you like; whenever Arthur is
capable of seeing you, you shall visit his sick-room."

"Thank you," he said, and she perceived the tremble of deep emotion in
his voice.

He came the next morning, and she allowed him to see De Vayne. He
entered noiselessly, and gazed for a moment as he stood at the door on
the pale wasted face, looking still paler in contrast with the long dark
hair that flowed over the pillow. He was awake, but there was no
consciousnes