had come to be a vital need to her to have
the ideal of Horace in her life. It was now almost more essential to
her to have something to admire than something to love. Under these
conditions she felt a certain sense of disappointment in him, that
he could seem to forget the deep wrong she had done him. And yet, in
utter contradiction to this feeling, his kind ignoring of it soothed
her tortured heart.

She sent no answer to these letters. She even hoped that by taking
this course she might make the impression on him that she did not
read them. This was her design and her consolation, even while she
read and re-read them with a devouring eagerness. She never paused
to ask herself why this was. She avoided any investigation into
her feeling for Horace. It was enough that, in spite of all the
self-accusation and self-abasement which she carried in her heart,
this being who knew the very worst of her could still think her
worthy of kindness and respect. When she thought of this she felt as
if she could go on her knees to him.

One fear was constantly before her mind, and that was that he might
seek a personal interview with her again. She dared not trust herself
to this, instinctively as she longed for it. It was, therefore, with
positive terror in her breast that she heard one morning from Nora
that Lord Hurdly was in the house, having come down by train from
London.

"I cannot see him--I will not!" she cried, in an impassioned protest,
which only Nora could have seen her portray.

"He did not ask to see you," said Nora. "I met him in the hall, and
he told me to say to you that he required some papers which were in
the library, and that he would, with your permission, like the use of
the room for a few hours. He told me to say that he had had luncheon,
and would not disturb you in any way."

At these words Bettina felt a sinking of the heart, which was her
first consciousness of the sudden hope she had been entertaining.
This made her reproach herself angrily for such weakness and want
of pride, and with this feeling in her heart, she said, abruptly,

"There is no answer to Lord Hurdly's message."

"I beg your pardon," said Nora, hesitatingly, "but I am quite sure he
is expecting an answer."

"I say there is no answer," Bettina repeated, with a sudden
sternness. "Lord Hurdly is in his own house. He can come and go as he
chooses. His asking permission of me is a mere farce."

Nora ventured to say no more, and wi