“There was something like secrecy, mystery at least, in his manner as he said this, that prevented my speaking for a moment, and he went on: 'Yes, Maitland is in that room, stretched on his bed, poor fellow; he has been severely wounded in a duel which, had I been here, should never have been fought. All this, remember, is in confidence; for it is needless to tell you Maitland is one of those men who hate being made gossip of; and I really believe that his wound never gave him one-half the pain that he felt at the bare possibility of his adventure being made town-talk. So well have we managed hitherto, that of the men you see here to-night—all of them intimate with him—one only knows that his illness is not a malaria fever.'
“'But can you answer for the same prudence and reserve on the part of the other principal?'
“'We have secured it, for the time at least, by removing him from Naples; and as the laws here are very severe against duelling, his own safety will suggest silence.'
“'Do you think Maitland would see me?'
“'I suppose he will be delighted to see you; but I will ascertain that without letting him know that I have already told you he was here. Remember, too, if he should receive you, drop nothing about the duel or the wound. Allude to his illness as fever, and leave to himself entirely the option of telling you the true story or not.'
“After a few more words of caution—less needed, if he only had known how thoroughly I understood his temper and disposition—he left me. He was back again in less than five minutes, and, taking me by the arm, led me to Maitland's door. 'There,' said he, 'go in I he expects you.'
“It was only after a few seconds that I could see my way through the half-darkened room, but, guided by a weak voice saying, 'Come on—here,' I approached a bed, on the outside of which, in a loose dressing-gown, the poor fellow lay.
“'You find it hard to recognize me, Lyle,' said he, with an attempt to smile at the amazement which I could not by any effort repress; for he was wasted to a shadow, his brown cheeks were sunken and sallow, and his dark flashing eyes almost colorless.
“'And yet,' added he, 'the doctor has just been complimenting me on my improved looks. It seems I was more horrible yesterday.' I don't remember what I said, but he thanked me and pressed my hand,—a great deal from him, for he is not certainly demonstrative; and then he pressed me to tell about you all,—how you were, and what doing. He inquired so frequently, and recurred so often to Bella, that I almost suspected something between them,—though, after all, I ought to have known that this was a conquest above Bella's reach,—the man who might any day choose from the highest in Europe.
“'Now a little about yourself, Maitland,' said I. 'How long have you been ill?'