"So Annie
Ashleigh writes me word that I am not to mention your engagement. Do you
think it quite prudent to keep it a secret?"

"I do not see how prudence is concerned in keeping it secret one way or
the other,--it is a mere matter of feeling. Most people wish to abridge,
as far as they can, the time in which their private arrangements are the
topic of public gossip."

"Public gossip is sometimes the best security for the due completion of
private arrangements. As long as a girl is not known to be engaged,
her betrothed must be prepared for rivals. Announce the engagement, and
rivals are warned off."

"I fear no rivals."

"Do you not? Bold man! I suppose you will write to Lilian?"

"Certainly."

"Do so, and constantly. By-the-way, Mrs. Ashleigh, before she went,
asked me to send her back Lady Haughton's letter of invitation. What
for,--to show to you?"

"Very likely. Have you the letter still? May I see it?"

"Not just at present. When Lilian or Mrs. Ashleigh writes to you, come
and tell me how they like their visit, and what other guests form the
party."

Therewith she turned away and conversed apart with the traveller.

Her words disquieted me, and I felt that they were meant to do so,
wherefore I could not guess. But there is no language on earth which has
more words with a double meaning than that spoken by the Clever Woman,
who is never so guarded as when she appears to be frank.

As I walked home thoughtfully, I was accosted by a young man, the son
of one of the wealthiest merchants in the town. I had attended him with
success some months before, in a rheumatic fever: he and his family were
much attached to me.

"Ah, my dear Fenwick, I am so glad to see you; I owe you an
obligation of which you are not aware,--an exceedingly pleasant
travelling-companion. I came with him to-day from London, where I have
been sight-seeing and holidaymaking for the last fortnight."

"I suppose you mean that you kindly bring me a patient?"

"No, only an admirer. I was staying at Fenton's Hotel. It so happened
one day that I had left in the coffee-room your last work on the Vital
Principle, which, by the by, the bookseller assures me is selling
immensely among readers as non-professional as myself. Coming into the
coffee-room again, I found a gentleman reading the book. I claimed it
politely; he as politely tendered his excuse for taking it. We made
acquaintance on the spot. The next day we were intimate. He expres