There was something akin to an acknowledgment of fascination in the way Mr. Brand looked at him; but the young clergyman retained as yet quite enough self-possession to be able to say, with a good deal of solemnity, “She is not in love with you.”

Felix gave a light laugh, and rejoined with the alacrity of a maritime adventurer who feels a puff of wind in his sail.  “Ah, no; if she were in love with me I should know it!  I am not so blind as you.”

“As I?”

“My dear sir, you are stone blind.  Poor Charlotte is dead in love with you!”

Mr. Brand said nothing for a moment; he breathed a little heavily.  “Is that what you wanted to say to me?” he asked.

“I have wanted to say it these three weeks.  Because of late she has been worse.  I told you,” added Felix, “it was very delicate.”

“Well, sir”—­Mr. Brand began; “well, sir”—­

“I was sure you did n’t know it,” Felix continued.  “But don’t you see—­as soon as I mention it—­how everything is explained?” Mr. Brand answered nothing; he looked for a chair and softly sat down.  Felix could see that he was blushing; he had looked straight at his host hitherto, but now he looked away.  The foremost effect of what he had heard had been a sort of irritation of his modesty.  “Of course,” said Felix, “I suggest nothing; it would be very presumptuous in me to advise you.  But I think there is no doubt about the fact.”

Mr. Brand looked hard at the floor for some moments; he was oppressed with a mixture of sensations.  Felix, standing there, was very sure that one of them was profound surprise.  The innocent young man had been completely unsuspicious of poor Charlotte’s hidden flame.  This gave Felix great hope; he was sure that Mr. Brand would be flattered.  Felix thought him very transparent, and indeed he was so; he could neither simulate nor dissimulate.  “I scarcely know what to make of this,” he said at last, without looking up; and Felix was struck with the fact that he offered no protest or contradiction.  Evidently Felix had kindled a train of memories—­a retrospective illumination.  It was making, to Mr. Brand’s astonished eyes, a very pretty blaze; his second emotion had been a gratification of vanity.

“Thank me for telling you,” Felix rejoined.  “It ’s a good thing to know.”

“I am not sure of that,” said Mr. Brand.

“Ah, don’t let her languish!” Felix murmured, lightly and softly.

“You do advise me, then?” And Mr. Brand looked up.

“I congratulate you!” said Felix, smiling.  He had thought at first his visitor was simply appealing; but he saw he was a little ironical.

“It is in your interest; you have interfered with me,” the young clergyman went on.

Felix still stood and smiled.  The little room had grown darker, and the crimson glow had faded; but Mr. Brand could see the brilliant expression of his face.  “I won’t pretend not to know what you mean,” said Felix at last.  “But I have not really interfered with you.  Of what you had to lose—­with another person—­you have lost nothing.  And think what you have gained!”