CHARLOTTE and Mr. Brand had not returned when they reached the house; but the Baroness had come to tea, and Robert Acton also, who now regularly asked for a place at this generous repast or made his appearance later in the evening. Clifford Wentworth, with his juvenile growl, remarked upon it.

“You are always coming to tea now-a-days, Robert,” he said. “I should think you had drunk enough tea in China.”

“Since when is Mr. Acton more frequent?” asked the Baroness.

“Since you came,” said Clifford. “It seems as if you were a kind of attraction.”

“I suppose I am a curiosity,” said the Baroness. “Give me time and I will make you a salon.”

“It would fall to pieces after you go!” exclaimed Acton.

“Don't talk about her going, in that familiar way,” Clifford said. “It makes me feel gloomy.”

Mr. Wentworth glanced at his son, and, taking note of these words, wondered if Felix had been teaching him, according to the programme he had sketched out, to make love to the wife of a German prince.

Charlotte came in late with Mr. Brand; but Gertrude, to whom, at least, Felix had taught something, looked in vain, in her face, for the traces of a guilty passion. Mr. Brand sat down by Gertrude, and she presently asked him why they had not crossed the pond to join Felix and herself.

“It is cruel of you to ask me that,” he answered, very softly. He had a large morsel of cake before him; but he fingered it without eating it. “I sometimes think you are growing cruel,” he added.

Gertrude said nothing; she was afraid to speak. There was a kind of rage in her heart; she felt as if she could easily persuade herself that she was persecuted. She said to herself that it was quite right that she should not allow him to make her believe she was wrong. She thought of what Felix had said to her; she wished, indeed, Mr. Brand would marry Charlotte. She looked away from him and spoke no more.