But the thought of Evelyn again crossed her; and perhaps with natural jealousy was mingled some compunction at the fate to which Lord Vargrave thus coldly appeared to condemn one so lovely and so innocent.
"But do not, Vargrave," she said, "do not be too sanguine; Evelyn may reject you.

She does not see you with my eyes; it is only a sense of honour that, as yet, forbids her openly to refuse the fulfilment of an engagement from which I know that she shrinks; and if she does refuse, and you be free,--and I another's--" "Even in that case," interrupted Vargrave, "I must turn to the Golden Idol; my rank and name must buy me an heiress, if not so endowed as Evelyn, wealthy enough, at least, to take from my wheels the drag-chain of disreputable debt.

But Evelyn--I will not doubt of her! her heart is still unoccupied!" "True; as yet her affections are not engaged." "And this Maltravers--she is romantic, I fancy--did he seem captivated by her beauty or her fortune ?" "No, indeed, I think not; he has been very little with us of late.

He talked to her more as to a child,--there is a disparity of years." "I am many years older than Maltravers," muttered Vargrave, moodily.
"You--but your _manner_ is livelier, and, therefore, younger!" "Fair flatterer! Maltravers does not love me: I fear his report of my character--" "I never heard him speak of you, Vargrave; and I will do Evelyn the justice to say, that precisely as she does not love she esteems and respects you." "Esteems! respects! these are the feelings for a prudent Hymen," said Vargrave, with a smile.

"But, hark! I don't hear the billiard-balls; they may find us here,--we had better separate." Lord Vargrave lounged into the billiard-room.