“Of such a feeling no one could suspect Miriam Monfort,” he said, gallantly; whispering low in the next moment, “one year has made strange improvement in your beauty, Miriam—­you are hardly the same little dark, quick, yet quiet girl, I parted with when I went to Copenhagen.  There is so much more pose and majesty—­more sweetness about you now—­and Evelyn too is changed—­oh! sadly—­sadly!”

“I have sometimes feared,” I said, keeping down, as best I might; the emotions conflicting in my bosom—­“feared that she might be delicate, and that her energies consumed her; you must control these, Claude!”

“I!—­why, what on earth can I have to do with Miss Erle and her energies? you speak in enigmas, Miriam!”

He was evidently embarrassed by the cool, incredulous look I dropped upon him.  “I had supposed every thing was settled some time ago,” I observed, quietly; “however, I will not bore you with conjectures or questions, I shall hear every thing, of course, when the proper time comes; until then, I shall hope to act out Milton’s noble line, and ‘stand and wait.’  And now, if you have a few minutes to spare, do give me the resume of your experience at Copenhagen.  What of the climate—­what of the people—­what of the court?  Are the women pretty or plain, as a general thing—­and had Hamlet light or dark hair, think you, from present indications in the royal family?  Or is it the same blood?  For you know that I have an enthusiasm about Denmark!  It is such a little, valiant, fiery, dominant state, and their sagas of the sea-kings set my blood on flame.  This always was a weakness of mine, you remember.”

“Yes, I recollect perfectly how you used to run on about Elsinore.  Well, I went there frequently, Miriam, and can tell you all about the dreary, decayed old town, to your utmost satisfaction.  Even your romance would fail, could you behold it now.”

And Claude evinced considerable power, as a word-painter, in the hour that followed, during the early part of which Mabel appeared at the door, was silently beckoned in by me, to remain a quiet and delighted listener, almost to the end of the interview, when Mrs. Austin suddenly summoned her away; and again Claude Bainrothe and I were left for a few minutes tete-a-tete.  When my visitor departed, or rose to do so, we shook hands frankly; and I thought, on the whole, he seemed grateful for my mode of treatment, and the interest I had shown in his narrative—­so entire a proof of the disinterested nature of my feelings, could he only have thought so!  It had probably been his intention to test and probe them in the beginning, and he had succeeded.

He lingered a moment, however, on the threshold, gazing at me earnestly.

“Miriam,” he said, reentering and closing the door, “Miriam, I wish I could be certain of your friendship.  I may put it to fiery proof before long.  Can I rely on you to support me then?”