I remember, next morning, as we sat at a very late breakfast, Lady Knollys, reading a letter, suddenly made an exclamation and a little laugh, and read on with increased interest for a few minutes, and then, with another little laugh, she looked up, placing her hand, with the open letter in it, beside her tea-cup.
'You'll not guess whom I've been reading about,' said she, with her head the least thing on one side, and an arch smile.
I felt myself blushing—cheeks, forehead, even down to the tips of my fingers. I anticipated the name I was to hear. She looked very much amused. Was it possible that Captain Oakley was married?
'I really have not the least idea,' I replied, with that kind of overdone carelessness which betrays us.
'No, I see quite plainly you have not; but you can't think how prettily you blush,' answered she, very much diverted.
'I really don't care,' I replied, with some little dignity, and blushing deeper and deeper.
'Will you make a guess?' she asked.
'I can't guess.'
'Well, shall I tell you?'
'Just as you please.'