e less hard, for Guy
had ceased to haunt her, and seemed to make it his business to avoid all
that could cause her embarrassment; but in another way it hurt her
much more, for she now saw the pain she was causing. If obliged to do
anything for her, he would give a look as if to ask pardon, and then
her rebellious heart would so throb with joy as to cause her dismay at
having let herself fall into so hateful a habit as wishing to attract
attention. What a struggle it was not to obey the impulse of turning
to him for the smile with which he would greet anything in conversation
that interested them both, and how wrong she thought it not to be more
consoled when she saw him talking to Eveleen, or to any of the others,
as if he was doing very well without her. This did not often happen; he
was evidently out of spirits, and thoughtful, and Amy was afraid some
storm might be gathering respecting Mr. Sebastian Dixon, about whom
there always seemed to be some uncomfortable mystery.

Mrs. Edmonstone saw everything, and said nothing. She was very sorry for
them both, but she could not interfere, and could only hope she had done
right, and protected Amy as far as she was able. She was vexed now and
then to see Eveleen give knowing smiles and significant glances, feared
that she guessed what was going on, and wondered whether to give her a
hint not to add to Amy's confusion; but her great dislike to enter on
such a subject prevailed, and she left things to take their course,
thinking that, for once, Guy's departure would be a relief.

The approach of anything in the shape of a party of pleasure was one
of the best cures for Eveleen's ailments, and the evening before Mary's
tea-drinking, she was in high spirits, laughing and talking a great
deal, and addressing herself chiefly to Guy. He exerted himself to
answer, but it did not come with life and spirit, his countenance did
not light up, and at last Eveleen said, 'Ah! I see I am a dreadful bore.
I'll go away, and leave you to repose.'

'Lady Eveleen!' he exclaimed, in consternation; 'what have I been
doing--what have I been thinking of?'

'Nay, that is best known to yourself, though I think perhaps I could
divine,' said she, with that archness and grace that always seemed
to remove the unfavourable impression that her proceedings might have
given. 'Shall I?'

'No, no,' he answered, colouring crimson, and then trying to laugh off
his confusion, and find some answer, but without