“If you like.  Yes.”

He began to hurry through the rooms.  Maude, however, was in no mood to be hurried, but stopped here and stopped there.  All at once they met a large party of friends; those she had originally expected to meet.  Quitting her husband’s arm, she became lost amongst them.

There was no help for it; and Lord Hartledon, resigning himself to the detention, took up his standing before the pictures and stared at them, his back to the room.  He saw a good deal to interest him, in spite of his rather tumultuous state of mind, and remained there until he found himself surrounded by other spectators.  Turning hastily with a view to escaping, he trod upon a lady’s dress.  She looked up at his word of apology, and they stood face to face—­himself and Miss Ashton!

That both utterly lost their presence of mind would have been conclusive to the spectators, had any regarded them; but none did so.  They were strangers amidst the crowd.  For the space of a moment each gazed on the other, spell-bound.  Lord Hartledon’s honest blue eyes were riveted on her face with a strangely yearning expression of repentance—­her sweet face, which had turned as white as ashes.  He wore mourning still for his brother, and was the most distinguished-looking man in the chateau that day.  Anne was in a trailing lilac silk, with a white gossamer-bonnet.  That the heart of each went out to the other, as it had perhaps never gone out before, it may be no sin to say.  Sin or no sin, it was the truth.  The real value of a thing, as you know, is never felt until it is lost.  For two months each had been dutifully striving to forget the other, and believed they were succeeding; and this first accidental meeting roused up the past in all its fever of passion.

No more conscious of what he did than if he had been in a dream, Lord Hartledon held out his hand; and she, quite as unconscious, mechanically met it with hers.  What confused words of greeting went forth from his lips he never knew; she as little; but this state of bewildered feeling lasted only a minute; recollection came to both, and she strove to withdraw her hand to retreat.

“God bless you, Anne!” was all he whispered, his fervent words marred by their tone of pain; and he wrung her hand as he released it.

Turning away he caught the eyes of his wife riveted on them; she had evidently seen the meeting, and her colour was high.  Lord Hartledon walked straight into the next room, and Maude went up to Anne.

“How do you do, Miss Ashton?  I am so glad to meet you.  I have just heard you were here from Mrs. Kattle.  You have been speaking to my husband.”

Anne bowed; she did not lose her presence of mind at this encounter.  A few civil words of reply given with courteous dignity, and she moved away with a bright flush on her cheek, towards Dr. and Mrs. Ashton, who were standing arm-in-arm enraptured before a remote picture, cognizant of nothing else.