I had seen my hero indeed
lately so disrespectfully handled before my eyes, that he had, as idols
will, lost something of his sacredness. But as an article of faith, I still
cultivated my trust in his divinity, and dismissed every intruding doubt
with an exorcism, as a suggestion of the evil one. But I wronged Lady
Knollys in suspecting her of pique, or malice, or anything more than that
tendency to take strong views which some persons attribute to my sex.

So, then, the little project of Cousin Monica's guardianship, which, had it
been poor papa's wish, would have made me so very happy, was quite knocked
on the head, to revive no more. I comforted myself, however, with her
promise to re-open communications with Bartram-Haugh, and we grew resigned.

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.'

'Well, I will--that is, I'll read a page of my letter, which tells it all.
Do you know Georgina Fanshawe?' she asked.

'Lady Georgina? No.'

'Well, no matter; she's in Paris now, and this letter is from her, and
she says--let me see the place--"Yesterday, what do you think?--quite an
apparition!--you shall hear. My brother Craven yesterday insisted on my
accompanying him to Le Bas' shop in that odd little antique street near the
Greve; it is a wonderful old curiosity shop. I forget what they call them
here. When we went into this place it was very nearly deserted, and there
were so many curious things to look at all a