below slightly shook the room--it ceased--the carriage stopped at the
door. Florence looked up. "No, no, it cannot be," she muttered; yet,
while she spoke, a faint flush passed over her sunken and faded cheek,
and the bosom heaved beneath the robe, "a world too wide for its shrunk"
proportions. There was a silence, which to her seemed interminable, and
she turned away with a deep sigh, and a chill sinking of the heart.

At this time her woman entered with a meaning and flurried look.

"I beg your pardon, my lady--but--"

"But what?"

"Mr. Maltravers has called, and asked for your ladyship--so, my lady,
Mr. Burton sent for me, and I said, my lady is too unwell to see any
one; but Mr. Maltravers would not be denied; and he is waiting in my
lord's library, and insisted on my coming up and 'nouncing him, my
lady."

Now Mrs. Shinfield's words were not euphonistic, nor her voice
mellifluous; but never had eloquence seemed to Florence so effective.
Youth, love, beauty, all rushed back upon her at once, brightening her
eyes, her cheek, and filling up ruin with sudden and deceitful light.

"Well," she said, after a pause, "let Mr. Maltravers come up."

"Come up, my lady? Bless me!--let me just 'range your hair--your
ladyship is really in such dish-a-bill."

"Best as it is, Shinfield--he will excuse all.--Go."