.
Laurence.

He was beginning to stammer out some excuse about its having been so
long ago, when Mrs. Damer came to his aid, in her clear, cold voice--

"It _was_ very long ago: we must both be forgiven for having forgotten
the circumstance."

"Well, you must renew your acquaintanceship at dinner," said Mrs.
Clayton, blithely, as she trotted off to make matters pleasant between
the rest of her visitors. As she did so, Mr. Laurence remained standing
by the sofa, but he did not attempt to address Mrs. Damer. Only, when
the room was nearly cleared, he held out his arm to her, and she rose to
accept it. But the next minute she had sunk back again upon the sofa,
and Mrs. Clayton was at her cousin's side. Mrs. Damer had fainted.

"Poor darling!" exclaimed Colonel Damer, as he pressed forward to the
side of his wife. "I was afraid coming down to-night would be too much
for her, but she would make the attempt; she has so much spirit. Pray
don't delay the dinner, Mrs. Clayton; I will stay by her, if you will
excuse the apparent rudeness, until she is sufficiently recovered to go
to bed."

But even as he spoke his wife raised herself from the many arms which
supported her, and essayed to gain her feet.

"Bella, dear! I am all right again. Pray, if you love me, don't make a
scene about a little fatigue. I often faint now: let me go up to my
bedroom and lie down, as I ought to have done at first, and I shall be
quite well to-morrow morning."

She would accept no one's help--not even her husband's, though it
distressed him greatly that she refused it--but walked out of the room
of her own accord, and toiled wearily up the staircase which led her to
the higher stories; whilst more than one pair of eyes watched her
ascent, and more than one appetite was spoilt for the coming meal.

"Don't you think that Blanche is looking very ill?" demanded Bella
Clayton of Colonel Damer, at the dinner-table. She had been much struck
herself with the great alteration in her cousin's looks, and fancied
that her husband was not so alarmed about it as he ought to be.

"I do, indeed," he replied; "but it is the last thing she will
acknowledge herself. She has very bad spirits and appetite; appears
always in a low fever, and is so nervous that the least thing will
frighten her. That, to me, is the worst and most surprising change of
all: such a high-couraged creature as she used to be."

"Yes, indeed," replied Mrs. Clayton; "I can hardly imagi