Florence hastily reads the false note from
beginning to end. Her heart beats furiously as she does so, and her
color comes and goes; but her voice is quite steady when she speaks
again.

"Well," she says, putting the paper from her as though heartily glad
to be rid of it, "it seems that Sir Adrian wishes to speak to you on
some subject interesting to you and him alone, and that he has chosen
the privacy of the lime-walk as the spot in which to hold your
_tete-a-tete_. It is quite a simple affair, is it not? Though really,
why he could not arrange to talk privately to you in some room in the
castle, which is surely large enough for the purpose, I can not
understand."

"Dear Sir Adrian is so romantic," says Dora coyly.

"Is he?" responds her cousin dryly. "He has always seemed to me the
sanest of men. Well, on what matter do you wish to consult me?"

"Dear Florence, how terribly prosaic and unsympathetic you are to-day,"
says Dora reproachfully; "and I came to you so sure of offers of love
and friendship! I want you to tell me if you think I ought to meet him
or not."

"Why not?"

"I don't know"--with a little simper. "Is it perhaps humoring him too
much? I have always dreaded letting a man imagine I cared for him,
unless fully, utterly, assured of his affection for me."

Florence colors again, and then grows deadly pale, as this poisoned barb
pierces her bosom.

"I should think," she says slowly, "after reading the letter you have
just shown me, you ought to feel assured."

"You believe I ought, really?"--with a fine show of eagerness. "Now, you
are not saying this to please me--to gratify me?"

"I should not please or gratify any one at the expense of truth."

"No, of course not. You are such a high-principled girl, so different
from many others. Then you think I might go and meet him this evening
without sacrificing my dignity in any way?"

"Certainly."

"Oh, I'm so glad," exclaimed little Mrs. Talbot rapturously, nodding her
"honorable" head with a beaming smile, "because I do so want to meet
him, dear fellow! And I value your opinion, Flo, more highly than that
of any other friend I possess. You are so solid, so thoughtful--such a
dear thing altogether."

Florence takes no heed of this rodomontade, but sits quite still, with
downcast eyes, tapping the small table near her with the tips of her
slender fingers in a meditative fashion.

"The fact is," continues Dora, who is watching her closely, "I m