with them when they went out, and thus she was thrown a little more
into Hawbury's way.

Ethel never made her appearance. The headaches which she avouched were
not pretended. They were real, and accompanied with heartaches that
were far more painful. Hawbury never saw her, nor did he ever hear her
mentioned. In general he himself kept the conversation in motion; and
as he never asked questions, they, of course, had no opportunity to
answer. On the other hand, there was no occasion to volunteer any
remarks about the number or the character of their party. When he
talked it was usually with Lady Dalrymple and Minnie: and with these
the conversation turned always upon glittering generalities, and the
airy nothings of pleasant gossip. All this, then, will very easily
account for the fact that Hawbury, though visiting there constantly,
never once saw Ethel, never heard her name mentioned, and had not the
faintest idea that she was so near. She, on the other hand, feeling
now sure that he was utterly false and completely forgetful, proudly
and calmly held aloof, and kept out of his way with the most jealous
care, until at last she staid indoors altogether, for fear, if she
went out, that she might meet him somewhere. For such a meeting she
did not feel sufficiently strong.

Often she thought of quitting Naples and returning to England. Yet,
after all, she found a strange comfort in being there. She was near
him. She heard his voice every day, and saw his face. That was
something. And it was better than absence.

Minnie used always to come to her and pour forth long accounts of Lord
Hawbury--how he looked, what he said, what he did, and what he
proposed to do. Certainly there was not the faintest approach to