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Rh "I was coming to see you to-morrow", said she; "but now, to-morrow you will come and see me".

She named the hour, and I promised compliance.

The morrow's evening found me with her—she and I shut into her own room. I had not seen her since that occasion when her claims were brought into comparison with those of Ginevra Fanshawe, and had so signally prevailed; she had much to tell me of her travels in the interval. A most animated, rapid speaker was she in such tête-à-tête, a most lively describer; yet with her artless diction and clear, soft voice, she never seemed to speak too fast or to say too much. My own attention I think would not soon have flagged, but by-and-by, she herself seemed to need some change of subject; she hastened to wind up her narrative briefly. Yet why she terminated with so concise an abridgment did not immediately appear; silence followed—a restless silence, not without symptoms of abstraction. Then, turning to me, in a diffident, half-appealing voice—

"Lucy"

"Well, I am at your side".

"Is my cousin Ginevra still at Madame Beck's?"

"Your cousin is still there; you must be longing to see her".

"No—not much".

"You want to invite her to spend another evening?"

"No..... I suppose she still talks about being married?"

"Not to any one you care for".

"But of course she still thinks of Dr. Bretton? She cannot have changed her mind on that point, because it was so fixed two months ago?"

"Why, you know, it does not matter. You saw the terms on which they stood".

"There was a little misunderstanding that evening, certainly; does she seem unhappy?"

"Not she. To change the subject. Have you heard or seen nothing of, or from Graham during your absence?"

"Papa had letters from him once or twice, about business I think. He undertook the management of some affair which required attention, while we were away. Dr. Bretton seems to respect papa, and to have pleasure in obliging him".