She appeared, as he had seen her on former occasions, rather composed than agitated; but a nicer judge than he could scarce have determined whether her calmness was that of despair or of indifference.

Bucklaw was too much agitated by his own feelings minutely to scrutinise those of the lady.

He stammered out an unconnected address, confounding together the two or three topics to which it related, and stopt short before he brought it to any regular conclusion.

Miss Ashton listened, or looked as if she listened, but returned not a single word in answer, continuing to fix her eyes on a small piece of embroidery on which, as if by instinct or habit, her fingers were busily employed.

Lady Ashton sat at some distance, almost screened from notice by the deep embrasure of the window in which she had placed her chair.