us of her nearness or of intention coldly averting
his gaze from her pleading eyes. She may know that, once having
crossed the room where she sits in anguish, all hope is lost that they
may meet again on this side of the grave. She may know that a dozen
words would fill his heart with joy, and that all life would smile to
both henceforth, but she cannot force her way to his side in public;
she cannot desert without ceremony the stranger who is conversing
courteously; she cannot cry out, she may not even speak, it may be that
it is not possible that she should leave her place--and he who is her
heart's blood approaches slowly--is near--has passed--is gone--and all
has come to bitter, cruel end. In my lord Duke of Osmonde's mind there
was no thought of anguish or the need for it; he but realised that he
had felt an unreasonable pang when she whom he had so desired to behold
had passed him by unnoticed. 'Twas after all a mere trick of chance,
and recalled to him the morning two years before, when he had heard her
horse's feet splashing through the mire of the narrow lane, and had
drawn his own beast aside while she galloped past unaware of his
nearness, and with the strange, absorbed, and almost fierce look in her
eyes. He had involuntarily gathered his bridle to follow her and then
had checked his impulse, realising its impetuousness, and had turned to
ride homeward with a half smile on his lips but with his heart
throbbing hard. But what perchance struck him most to-night, was that
her eyes wore a look unlike, yet somehow akin, to that which he had
marked and been moved by then--as if storm were hid within their
shadows and she herself was like some fine wild thing at bay.

There would have been little becomingness in his hastening after her
and his Lordship of Dunstanwolde; his court to her must be paid with
grace and considerateness. If there were men who in their eagerness
forgot their wit and tact, he was not one of them.

He turned to re-enter the ball-room and approach her there, and on the
threshold encountered young Colin, who looked for the moment pale.

"Did you see her?" he asked. "She has but just passed through the room
with my Lord Dunstanwolde--Mistress Clorinda," he added, with a little
rueful laugh. "In Gloucestershire there is but one 'she.' When we speak
of the others we use their names and call them Mistress Margaret or my
Lady Betty--or Jane."

"I stood at the head of the stairway as she passed,"