In the meantime, Lady Roehampton was paying her farewell visit to her former pupil. They were alone, and Adriana was hanging on her neck and weeping.

“We were so happy,” she murmured.

“And are so happy, and will be,” said Myra.

“I feel I shall never be happy again,” sighed Adriana.

“You deserve to be the happiest of human beings, and you will be.”

“Never, never!”

Lady Roehampton could say no more; she pressed her friend to her heart, and left the room in silence.

When she arrived at her hotel, her brother was leaving the house. His countenance was disquieted; he did not greet her with that mantling sunniness of aspect which was natural to him when they met.

“I have made all my farewells,” she said; “and how have you been getting on?” And she invited him to reenter the hotel.

“I am ready to depart at this moment,” he said somewhat fiercely, “and was only thinking how I could extricate myself from that horrible dinner today at the Count of Ferroll’s.”

“Well, that is not difficult,” said Myra; “you can write a note here if you like, at once. I think you must have seen quite enough of the Count of Ferroll and his friends.”

Endymion sat down at the table, and announced his intended non-appearance at the Count’s dinner, for it could not be called an excuse. When he had finished, his sister said—

“Do you know, we were nearly having a travelling companion tomorrow?”

He looked up with a blush, for he fancied she was alluding to some previous scheme of Lady Montfort. “Indeed!” he said, “and who?”

“Adriana.”

“Adriana!” he repeated, somewhat relieved; “would she leave her family?”

“She had a fancy, and I am sure I do not know any companion I could prefer to her. She is the only person of whom I could truly say, that every time I see her, I love her more.”

“She seemed to like Paris very much,” said Endymion a little embarrassed.

“The first part of her visit,” said Lady Roehampton, “she liked it amazingly. But my arrival and Lady Montfort’s, I fear, broke up their little parties. You were a great deal with the Neuchatels before we came?”

“They are such a good family,” said Endymion; “so kind, so hospitable, such true friends. And Mr. Neuchatel himself is one of the shrewdest men that probably ever lived. I like talking with him, or rather, I like to hear him talk.”

“O Endymion,” said Lady Roehampton, “if you were to marry Adriana, my happiness would be complete.”

“Adriana will never marry,” said Endymion; “she is afraid of being married for her money. I know twenty men who would marry her, if they thought there was a chance of being accepted; and the best man, Eusford, did make her an offer—that I know. And where could she find a match more suitable?—high rank, and large estate, and a man that everybody speaks well of.”

“Adriana will never marry except for the affections; there you are right, Endymion; she must love and she must be loved; but that is not very unreasonable in a person who is young, pretty, accomplished, and intelligent.”

“She is all that,” said Endymion moodily.

“And she loves you,” said Lady Roehampton.

Endymion rather started, looked up for a moment at his sister, and then withdrew as hastily an agitated glance, and then with his eyes on the ground said, in a voice half murmuring, and yet scoffingly: “I should like to see Mr. Neuchatel’s face were I to ask permission to marry his daughter. I suppose he would not kick me downstairs; that is out of fashion; but he certainly would never ask me to dinner again, and that would be a sacrifice.”

“You jest, Endymion; I am not jesting.”

“There are some matters that can only be treated as a jest; and my marriage with Miss Neuchatel is one.”

“It would make you one of the most powerful men in England,” said his sister.

“Other impossible events............