"You devoted girl! It is you who don't care to hear it. Take care, Anne;
too much love is not good for gaining the mastership; and I have heard
that you are--shall I say it?--_éperdue_."

Anne, in spite of her calm good sense, was actually provoked to a retort
in kind, and felt terribly vexed with herself for it afterwards. "A
rumour of the same sort has been breathed as to the Lady Maude Kirton's
regard for Lord Hartledon."

"Has it?" returned Lady Maude, with a cool tone and a glowing face. "You
are angry with me without reason. Have I not offered to swear to you an
eternal friendship?"

Anne shook her head, and her lips parted with a curious expression. "I do
not swear so lightly, Lady Maude."

"What if I were to avow to you that it is true?--that I do love Lord
Hartledon, deeply as it is known you love his brother," she added,
dropping her voice--"would you believe me?"

Anne looked at the speaker's face, but could read nothing. Was she in
jest or earnest?

"No, I would not believe you," she said, with a smile. "If you did love
him, you would not proclaim it."

"Exactly. I was jesting. What is Lord Hartledon to me?--save that we are
cousins, and passably good friends. I must avow one thing, that I like
him better than I do his brother."