"Oh yes, of course. Now I shall--by the way, Lady Caroline, I recollect now--it scarcely impressed me then--that during that conversation you seemed to have some doubts as to what Marian--as to what might be the reply to the letter which I told you I had written?"
"I certainly had."
"And you endeavoured to wean me from the miserable self-conceit under which I was labouring, and failed. I recollect your hints now. Tell me, Lady Caroline, why was I so blind? What made you suspect?"
"My dear Mr. Joyce, you were blind because you were in love! I suspected because, being merely a looker-on--an interested one, I acknowledge, for I had a great interest in your welfare, but still merely a looker-on, and therefore, according to the old proverb, seeing most of the game--I could not help noticing that the peculiar position of affairs, and the length of time you remained without any news of your fiancée afforded grave grounds of suspicion."
"Yes," said poor Walter; "as you say, I am blind. I never noticed that."
"Now, Mr. Joyce," said Lady Caroline, "the question is not with the past, but with the future. What do you intend doing?"
"I have scarcely thought. It matters very little."
"Pardon my saying that it matters very much. Do you think of taking up this appointment for the newspaper that you spoke of--this correspondentship in Berlin?"
"No; I think not. I really don't know--I thought of remaining as I am."
"What! pass the rest of your life in writing Lord Hetherington's letters, and cramming him for speeches which he will never deliver?"