"Oh, no. Only Lord Worthington."

"I conclude then that you are celebrated, and that I have the
misfortune not to know it, Mr. Cashel Byron. Is it so?"

"Not a bit of it," he replied, hastily. "There's no reason why you
should ever have heard of me. I am much obliged to you for your kind
inquiries," he continued, turning to Alice. "I'm quite well now,
thank you. The country has set me right again."

Alice, who was beginning to have her doubts of Mr. Byron, in spite
of his familiarity with Lord Worthington, smiled falsely and drew
herself up a little. He turned away from her, hurt by her manner,
and so ill able to conceal his feelings that Miss Carew, who was
watching him, set him down privately as the most inept dissimulator
she had ever met. He looked at Lydia wistfully, as if trying to read
her thoughts, which now seemed to be with the setting sun, or in
some equally beautiful and mysterious region. But he could see that
there was no reflection of Miss Goff's scorn in her face.

"And so you really took me for a ghost," he said.

"Yes. I thought at first that you were a statue."

"A statue!"

"You do not seem flattered by that."

"It is not flattering to be taken for a lump of stone," he replied,