He reached Rome; he found a note on his table from Lady Charlotte Deerham,
saying she had heard it was his intention to leave Rome, and begging him
to receive from her that evening her adieux. "Lady Erpingham will be with
me," concluded the note.

This brought a new train of ideas. Since Lucilla's flight, all thought
but of Lucilla had been expelled from Godolphin's mind. We have seen how
his letter to Lady Erpingham miscarried: he had written no other. How
strange to Constance must seem his conduct, after the scene of the avowal
in the Siren's Cave: no excuse on the one hand, no explanation on the
other; and now what explanation should he give? There was no longer a
necessity, for it was no longer honesty and justice to fly from the bliss
that might await him--the love of his early--worshipped Constance. But
could he, with a heart yet bleeding from the violent rupture of one tie,
form a new one? Agitated, restless, self-reproachful, bewildered, and
uncertain, he could not bear thoughts that demanded answers to a thousand
questions; he flung from his cheerless room, and hastened, with a feverish
pulse and burning temples, to Lady Charlotte Deerham's.

"Good Heavens! how ill you look, Mr. Godolphin!" cried the hostess,
involuntarily.

"Ill!--ha! ha! I never was better; but I have just returned from a long
journey: I have not touched food nor felt sleep for three days and nights!
1-ha, ha! no, I'm not ill;" and, with an eye bright with gathering
delirium, Godolphin glared around him.

Lady Charlotte drew back and shuddered; Godolphin felt a cool, soft hand
laid on his; he turned and the face of Constance, full of anxious and
wondering pity, was bent upon him. He stood arrested for one moment, and