She stood, calm and statuesque, but with her eyes downcast for a moment, then she raised them and looked at him. "About this cotillon," she said; then she broke off: "Do you know what is going to happen to-night? It is a secret, but—but I feel as if I must tell you, though I am betraying Sir Stephen's confidence. He tells me everything—more than he tells even Stafford. Strange as it may seem, he—he is fond of me."
"That does not seem strange to me," said Howard, with a little bow.
She made a slight gesture of impatience.
"It seems strange to me," she said, with a touch of bitterness. "So few persons are fond of me."
Howard smiled.
"For once I must be guilty of contradicting a lady," he said. "When I reflect that to-night I shall form one of a band of devoted courtiers who will throng round you in the hopeless pangs of despair—"
She repeated the gesture of impatience.
"Have you seen Stafford to-day?" she asked, looking down.
"I saw him a few hours ago," he replied, "at his rooms."
"At his rooms," she repeated, with a slight frown and a quick glance at him. "He promised to come to Richmond. Why did he not do so? Is he—ill?"