"I know," be said; "the regular objection.
You are quite right, of course, on the score of
propriety. I understand."

"O no, no, no, no!" she said, with extraordinary
eagerness, and clasping her hands together
piteously. "Not that! no, indeed!"

Fennor looked at her appealing eyes with
admiration—with great satisfaction, too, in himself.
"Bird fluttering in the fowler's net, and fluttering
so prettily," was the idea floating in his
mind. For curiosity and amusement he would
make her flutter yet a little more. "You want
me to go," be said. "I intrude here. And yet,"
said he, "for a sick man, tired by his first walk
—exhausted, in fact—to be turned out—"

Again the little bird fluttered nervously to the
window, fluttered back again, almost wrung her
hands. Fermor began to be astonished.

"O!" she said, " it seems very odd and very
cruel, but I gave a sort of promise. If you could
come again later; indeed I could not help it; but
if they come back—"

"I see!" said Fermor. "Upon my word, this
is taking the shape of a romance. What a
pity to put all your family to such trouble—
solemn promises, and the like! I assure you
there was no need. The shadow of a hint would
have—But how a mere call of civility could
cause any confusion or misapprehension, is, to me,
a perfect mystery. Pray assure your family that
they may set their minds at rest for the future."

This was more of the fowler and of the fowler's
net. The little bird looked at him wistfully, and
seemed inclined to sob.

"What shall I do?" she said. " I should not
have told you. I don't know what you will
think! O, let me go, please, for I am very unhappy!"

She flew past him out of the room, he looking
after her with wonder, half pleased, half mortified.
He should like to make an effective stage
exit, but there was no audience. His curiosity
was, besides, piqued—almost to a vulgar degree
—and he was dying to learn. He walked
away, and came back undecided; walked away
again, and came back. "Poor little soul," he
said, looking tranquilly at a Fermor that was in
the glass, "it is very fresh and natural!"

He rang the bell suddenly, and presently came
the maid who had thought him lovely. He
spoke to her with exquisite politeness. "Might
I give you the trouble," he said, "to ask Miss
Violet Manuel if I could see her for one moment."

The girl went away delighted with the mission.

Violet appeared again at the door in sad confusion.
"O," she said, "I have behaved so
absurdly, so childishly, I am quite ashamed. You
won't think of it. Will it be too much to ask
you not to say that I have told you—"

"A little secret?" said the fowler, smiling.
"Is it to be our secret? With all my heart. But
what is the meaning of all this? What are these
mysterious promises and tyrant relations? Or is
it my poor head that is not yet recovered? I
think it must be."

She was hanging down her head, and said over
again she had been so foolish and so ridiculous.

Fermor's voice became wonderfully soft. "Seriously,"
said he, "can I help you? If you were,
indeed, to do me the honour of thinking me
worthy of being consulted, such poor advice as I
am capable of would be at your service. I have
seen a little of the world, and have been knocked
about here, there, and everywhere. I ought to
know something. Do consult me, and I am sure
I could help you."

A melancholy sort of flageolet voice was the
most effective of all the instruments in Fermor's
orchestra. He was playing on it now, and with
surprising effect.

"O, you are so kind, so good," she said, tearfully,
"and I don't know how to thank you. But
they don't know, they don't understand—"

"They? Who?" said Fermor. "You won't
be angry if I say something—that is, if I suspect
that there is a friend of yours who has
something to do with this. You see, a sick man
hears something occasionally. Now, I know his
nature very well, having come in contact with
ever so many natures up and down the world.
I may not have profited by all my opportunities
as I ought to have done, but, in spite of myself,
I have come to know human nature, at least.
Well, Mr. Hanbury is an honest, good soul, that
means well; and I seriously tell you, if he does
make a mistake, and is hurried out of his regular
course by a little honest roughness, I know
enough of human nature to see that it is only on
the surface."

"O, it is not that; but this place, as you
know, is full of—stories," said the girl, passionately;
"but I don't like him—never can like
him! never!"

"Never like him!" said Fennor, looking round
in astonishment. "How singular! How surprising!"
(Over and over again, when he got
home, did he rehearse this scene with delight
and complacency, the exquisite skill with which
he had "played" seeming to him above all other
efforts of his life.) "Do tell me about this, for
really I should have thought—but then I always
forget that I have been a sick man with a battered
head, and, what is worse, a defeated one, on an
occasion when I would have given I can't say
what to have gained a victory!"

Fermor was walking up and down the room as
he spoke all this very volubly, his coat fluttering
back as he walked, like the drapery of a robe.

"I should have come back to you, to your
carriage, to be crowned; but it was no use
struggling with destiny. Your wishes, I know,
were against me, like a strong gale. You had
your champion—why not? To say the truth, I
never do expect to succeed in anything in life.
I expect to be always near it to want something
just at the last moment. See the life I
lead, forced to associate with that herd a set of
blocks—good in their own way, but for a mind