“Or who?” and as she smiled up to him, she was ashamed of her smile.

“Yes, who!” he interjected, by this time quite enlightened.  All subtle feelings are discerned by Welsh eyes when untroubled by any mental agitation.  Brother and sister were Welsh, and I may observe that there is human nature and Welsh nature.

“Forgive me,” she said; “I have been disturbed about you.”

Perceiving that it would be well to save her from any spiritual twists and turns that she might reach what she desired to know, he spoke out fully:  “I have not written to you about Miss Belloni lately.  I think it must be seven or eight days since I had a letter from her—­you shall see it—­looking as if it had been written in the dark.  She gave the address of a London hotel.  I went to her, and her story was that she had come to town to get Mr. Pole’s consent to her marriage with his son; and that when she succeeded in making herself understood by him, the old man fell, smitten with paralysis, crying out that he was ruined, and his children beggars.”

“Ah!” said Georgiana; “then this son is engaged to her?”

“She calls him her lover.”

“Openly?”

“Have I not told you? ‘naked and unashamed.’”

“Of course that has attracted my Merthyr!” Georgians drew to him tenderly, breathing as one who has a burden off her heart.

“But why did she write to you?” the question started up.

For this reason:  it appears that Mr. Pole showed such nervous irritation at the idea of his family knowing the state he was in, that the doctor attending him exacted a promise from her not to communicate with one of them.  She was alone, in great perplexity, and did what I had requested her to do.  She did me the honour to apply to me for any help it was in my power to give.

Georgiana stood eyeing the ground sideways.  “What is she like?”

“You shall see to-morrow, if you will come with me.”

“Dark, or fair?”

Merthyr turned her face to the light, laughing softly.  Georgiana coloured, with dropped eyelids.

She raised her eyes under their load of shame.  “I will come gladly,” she said.

“Early to-morrow, then,” rejoined Merthyr.

On the morrow, as they were driving to the hotel, Georgians wanted to know whether he called ‘this Miss Belloni’ by her Christian name—­a question so needless that her over-conscious heart drummed with gratitude when she saw that he purposely spared her from one meaning look.  In this mutual knowledge, mutual help, in minute as in great things, as well as in the recognition of a common nobility of mind, the love of the two was fortified.