“My dear boy, you don’t understand me.  Do you think I’m a sneak?  Do you suppose I’d ask you to act as a go-between?  Nonsense!  I merely ask you to go as a cursory visitor.  I don’t want you to breathe my name, or even think of me while you are there.”

“But suppose I make myself too agreeable to the young lady.  By Jove! she might think I was paying her attentions, you know.”

“Oh no, no! believe me, you don’t know her.  She’s too earnest; she has too much soul to shift and change.  Oh no!  I feel that she is mine, and that the image of my own miserable self is indelibly impressed upon her heart.  Oh no! you don’t know her.  If you had heard her thrilling expressions of gratitude, if you had seen the beseeching and pleading looks which she gave me, you would know that she is one of those natures who love once, and once only.”

“Oh, by Jove, now!  Come!  If that’s the ’state of the case, why, I’ll go.”

“Thanks, old boy.”

“As a simple visitor.”

“Yes—­that’s all.”

“To talk about the weather, and that rot.”

“Yes.”

“And no more.”

“No.”

“Not a word about you.”

“Not a word.”

“No leading questions, and that sort of thing.”

“Nothing of the kind.”

“No hints, no watching, but just as if I went there of my own accord.”

“That’s exactly the thing.”

“Very well; and now, pray, what good is all this going to do to you, my boy?”

“Well, just this; I can talk-to you about her every evening, and you can tell me how she looks, and what she says, and all that sort of thing, you know.”

“By Jove!”

“And you’ll cheer my heart, old fellow.”

“Heavens and earth! old boy, you don’t seem to think that this is going to be no end of a bore.”

“I know it, old man; but then, you know, I’m desperate just now.”

“By Jove!”

And Hawbury, uttering this exclamation, relapsed into silence, and wondered over his friend’s infatuation.

On the following day when Dacres came in he found that Hawbury had kept his word.

“Great bore, old fellow,” said he; “but I did it.  The old lady is an old acquaintance, you know.  I’m going there to-morrow again.  Didn’t see any thing to-day of the child-angel.  But it’s no end of a bore, you know.”

CHAPTER XI

FALSE AND FORGETFUL.

The day when Lord Hawbury called on Lady Dalrymple was a very eventful one in his life, and had it not been for a slight peculiarity of his, the immediate result of that visit would have been of a highly important character.  This slight peculiarity consisted in the fact that he was short-sighted, and, therefore, on a very critical occasion turned away from that which would have been his greatest joy, although it was full before his gaze.