"Old!" said Vivian, in a proper tone of surprise.

"Old! ay old; how old do you think I am?"

"You may have seen twenty summers," gallantly conjectured Vivian.

The lady looked pleased, and almost insinuated that she had seen one or
two more.

"A clever woman," thought Vivian, "but vain; I hardly know what to think
of her."

"Mr. Grey, I fear you find me in bad spirits to-day; but alas! I--I have
cause. Although we see each other to-day for the first time, yet there
is something in your manner, something in the expression of your eyes,
that make me believe my happiness is not altogether a matter of
indifference to you." These words, uttered in one of the sweetest voices
by which ever human being was fascinated, were slowly and deliberately
spoken, as if it were intended that they should rest on the ear of the
object to whom they were addressed.

"My dearest madam! it is impossible that I can have but one sentiment
with regard to you, that of--"

"Of what, Mr. Grey?"

"Of solicitude for your welfare."

The lady gently took the arm of the young man, and then with an agitated