"Spare your regrets, my dear Carr," said Colonel Morley. "Darrell is not
in England: I rather believe he is in Verona." Therewith the Colonel
sauntered towards the group gathered round the piano. A little time
afterwards Lady Montfort escaped from the Duchess, and, mingling
courteously with her livelier guests, found herself close to Colonel
Morley. "Will you give me my revenge at chess?" she asked, with her rare
smile. The Colonel was charmed. As they sat down and ranged their men,
Lady Montfort remarked carelessly,

"I overheard you say you had lately received a letter from Mr. Darrell.
Does he write as if well,--cheerful? You remember that I was much with
his daughter, much in his house, when I was a child. He was ever most
kind to me." Lady Montfort's voice here faltered.

"He writes with no reference to himself, his health, or his spirits. But
his young kinsman described him to me as in good health,--wonderfully
young-looking for his years. But cheerful,--no! Darrell and I entered
the world together; we were friends as much as a man so busy and so
eminent as he could be friends with a man like myself, indolent by habit
and obscure out of Mayfair. I know his nature; we both know something of
his family sorrows. He cannot be happy! Impossible!--alone, childless,
secluded. Poor Darrell, abroad now; in Verona, too!--the dullest place!
in mourning still for Romeo and Juliet! 'T is your turn to move. In his
letter Darrell talked of going on to Greece, Asia, penetrating into the
depths of Africa,--the wildest schemes! Dear County Guy, as we called
him at Eton! what a career his might have been! Don't let us talk of
him, it makes me mournful. Like Goethe, I avoid painful subjects upon
principle."

LADY MONTFORT.--"No; we will not talk of him. No; I take the Queen's