ue? are you really going to leave us?" said Evelyn, and she
felt very sad. But still the sadness might not be that of love,--she had
felt sad after Legard had gone.

"I do not think I shall long stay away," said Maltravers, trying to
speak indifferently. "Burleigh has become more dear to me than it was in
earlier youth; perhaps because I have made myself duties there: and in
other places I am but an isolated and useless unit in the great mass."

"You! everywhere, you must have occupations and resources,--everywhere,
you must find yourself not alone. But you will not go yet?"

"Not yet--no. [Evelyn's spirits rose.] Have you read the book I sent
you?" (It was one of De Stael's.)

"Yes; but it disappoints me."

"And why? It is eloquent."

"But is it true? Is there so much melancholy in life? Are the affections
so full of bitterness? For me, I am so happy when with those I love!
When I am with my mother, the air seems more fragrant, the skies more
blue: it is surely not affection, but the absence of it, that makes us
melancholy."

"Perhaps so; but if we had never known affection, we might not miss it:
and the brilliant Frenchwoman speaks from memory, while you speak
from hope,--memory, which is the ghost of joy: yet surely, even in
the indulgence of affection, there is at times a certain melancholy, a
certain fear. Have you never felt it, even with--with your mother?"

"Ah, yes! when she suffered, or when I have thought she loved me less
than I desired."

"That must have been an idle and vain thought. Your mother! does she
resemble you?"

"I wish I could think so. Oh, if you knew her! I have longed so often
that you were acquainted with each other! It was she who taught me to
sing your songs."

"My dear Mrs. Hare, we may as well throw up our cards," said the keen
clear voice of Lord Vargrave: "you have played most admirably, and I
know that your last card will be the ace of trumps; still the luck is
against us."

"No, no; pray play it out, my lord."

"Quite useless, ma'am," said Sir John, showing two honours. "We have
only the trick to make."

"Quite useless," echoed Lumley, tossing down his sovereigns, and rising
with a careless yawn.

"How d'ye do, Maltravers?"

Maltravers rose; and Vargrave turned to Evelyn, and addressed her in
a whisper. The proud Maltravers walked away, and suppressed a sigh; a
moment more, and he saw Lord Vargrave occupying the chair he had left
vacant. He laid his hand on Cleve