In another moment, Maltravers, who had been more observant than he
seemed, joined her where she sat.

"Dear Florence," said he, tenderly, "you look pale--I fear you are not
so well this evening."

"No affectation of an interest you do not feel, pray," said Florence,
with a scornful lip but swimming eyes.

"Do not feel, Florence!"

"It is the first time, at least, that you have observed whether I am
well or ill. But it is no matter."

"My dear Florence,--why this tone?--how have I offended you? Has Lumley
said--"

"Nothing but in your praise. Oh, be not afraid, you are one of those of
whom all speak highly. But do not let me detain you here; let us join
our host--you have left him alone."

Lady Florence waited for no reply, nor did Maltravers attempt to detain
her. He looked pained, and when she turned round to catch a glance,
that she hoped would be reproachful, he was gone. Lady Florence became
nervous and uneasy, talked she knew not what, and laughed hysterically.
She, however, deceived Cleveland into the notion that she was in the
best possible spirits. By and by she rose, and passed through the suite
of rooms: her heart was with Maltravers--still he was not visible. At
length she entered the conservatory, and there she observed him, through
the open casements, walking slowly, with folded arms, upon the moonlit