“There shall be nothing in it,” was the emphatic answer.  “Anne was my first love, and she will be my last.  You must promise to give her to me as soon as you return from Cannes.”

“About that you must ask her father.  I dare say he will do so.”

Lord Hartledon rose from his seat; held Mrs. Ashton’s hand between his whilst he said his adieu, and stooped to kiss her with a son’s affection.  She was a little surprised to find it was his final farewell.  They were not going to start until Monday.  But Hartledon could not have risked that cross-questioning again; rather would he have sailed away for the savage territories at once.  He went downstairs searching for Anne, and found her in the room where you first saw her—­her own.  She looked up with quite an affectation of surprise when he entered, although she had probably gone there to await him.  The best of girls are human.

“You ran away, Anne, whilst mamma and I held our conference?”

“I hope it has been satisfactory,” she answered demurely, not looking up, and wondering whether he suspected how violently her heart was beating.

“Partly so.  The end was all right.  Shall I tell it you?”

“The end!  Yes, if you will,” she replied unsuspectingly.

“The decision come to is, that a certain young friend of ours is to be converted, with as little delay as circumstances may permit, into Lady Hartledon.”

Of course there came no answer except a succession of blushes.  Anne’s work, which she had carried with her, took all her attention just then.

“Can you guess her name, Anne?”

“I don’t know.  Is it Maude Kirton?”

He winced.  “If you have been told that abominable rubbish, Anne, it is not necessary to repeat it.  It’s not so pleasant a theme that you need make a joke of it.”

“Is it rubbish?” asked Anne, lifting her eyes.

“I think you ought to know that if any one does.  But had anything happened, Anne, recollect it would have been your fault.  You have been very cool to me of late.  You forbid me the house for weeks and weeks; you went away for an indefinite period without letting me know, or giving me the chance of seeing you; and when the correspondence was at length renewed, your letters were cold and formal—­quite different from what they used to be.  It almost looks as if you wished to part from me.”

Repentance was stealing over her:  why had she ever doubted him?

“And now you are going away again!  And although this interview may be our last for months, you scarcely deign to give me a word or a look of farewell.”

Anne had already been terribly tried by Mrs. Graves:  this was the climax:  she lost her self-control and burst into tears.  Lord Hartledon was softened at once.  He took her two hands in his; he clasped her to his heart, half devouring her face with passionate kisses.  Ah, Lady Maude! this impassioned love was never felt for you.