"Ah; yes; I know men have their secrets, as well as women," said
Valencia, for the mere love of saying something: but as she looked at
Vavasour, she saw an expression in his face which she had never seen
before. What was it?--All that one can picture for oneself branded into
the countenance of a man unable to repress the least emotion, who had
worked himself into the belief that Thurnall had betrayed his secret.

"My dear Mr. Vavasour," cried Campbell, of course unable to guess the
truth, and supposing vaguely that he was 'ill;' "I am sure that--that
the sun has overpowered you" (the only possible thing he could think
of). "Lie down on the sofa a minute" (Vavasour was actually reeling with
rage and terror), "and I will run up to Thurnall's for salvolatile."

Elsley, who thought him the most consummate of hypocrites, cast on him a
look which he intended to have been withering, and rushed out of the
room, leaving the two staring at each other.

Valencia was half inclined to laugh, knowing Elsley's petulance and
vanity: but the impossibility of guessing a cause kept her quiet.

Major Campbell stood for full five minutes; not as one astounded, but as
one in deep and anxious thought.

"What can be the matter, mon Saint Père?" asked she at last, to break
the silence.

"That there are more whims in the world than yours, dear Queen Whims;
and I fear darker ones. Let us walk up together after this man. I have
offended him."