"I am not engaged to Lady Louise."

He said those words huskily, and he could say no more.

Miss Hunsden tried to look grave, but her mouth twitched. The sense of
the ludicrous overcame her sense of decorum, and again she laughed
until the tears stood in her eyes.

"Oh, I shall die!" in a faint whisper. "My sides ache. I beg your
pardon, Sir Everard; but indeed I can not help it. It is so funny!"

"So I perceive. Good-morning, Miss Hunsden."

"And now you are angry. Why, Sir Everard!" catching for the first time
a glimpse of his deathly white face, "I didn't think you felt like
this. Oh! I beg your pardon with all my heart for laughing. I
believe I should laugh on the scaffold. It's dreadfully vulgar, but it
was born with me, I'm afraid. Did I gallop right into your heart's
best affections at the fox-hunt? Why, I thought I shocked you
dreadfully. I know I tried to. Won't you shake hands, Sir Everard,
and part friends?"

"Miss Hunsden will always find me her friend if she ever needs one.
Farewell!"

Again he was turning away. He would not touch the proffered palm. He
was so deathly white, and his voice shook so, that the hot tears rushed
into the impetuous Harrie's eyes.