"You, Miss Merton? Ah, I have not yet read your character,—a fair page, but an unknown letter. You, however, have seen the world, and know that we must occasionally wear a mask." Lord Vargrave sighed as he spoke, and relapsed into sudden silence; then looking up, his eyes encountered Caroline's, which were fixed upon him. Their gaze flattered him; Caroline turned away, and busied herself with a rose-bush. Lumley gathered one of the flowers, and presented it to her. Evelyn was a few steps in advance.
"There is no thorn in this rose," said he; "may the offering be an omen. You are now Evelyn's friend, oh, be mine; she is to be your guest. Do not scorn to plead for me."
"Can you want a pleader?" said Caroline, with a slight tremor in her voice.
"Charming Miss Merton, love is diffident and fearful; but it must now find a voice, to which may Evelyn benignly listen. What I leave unsaid—would that my new friend's eloquence could supply."
He bowed slightly, and joined Evelyn. Caroline understood the hint, and returned alone and thoughtfully to the house.
"Miss Cameron—Evelyn—ah, still let me call you so, as in the happy and more familiar days of your childhood, I wish you could read my heart at this moment. You are about to leave your home; new scenes will surround, new faces smile on you; dare I hope that I may still be remembered?"
He attempted to take her hand as he spoke; Evelyn withdrew it gently.
"Ah, my lord," said she, in a very low voice, "if remembrance were all that you asked of me—"
"It is all,—favourable remembrance, remembrance of the love of the past, remembrance of the bond to come."
Evelyn shivered. "It is better to speak openly," said she.