at first, like one newly aroused from sleep. She
remained silent, and watched all the movements
of Gabrielle, as she spread the supper-things on
the table. At length she seemed to realise what
was going on, and perhaps to remember that last
stormy interview.

"May I ask," she said at last, "to what I
must attribute all this attention, and why you
have taken upon you this menial office?"

"Well, I wanted an opportunity of coming
up to speak to you," said Gabrielle, "and I
thought this would be a good one. The last
time we met our parting was a very distressing
one, and I cannot bear to think of it."

"Then why should you want to break it all
up again by speaking of it?" said Miss Carrington,
rather peevishly.

"I only wanted to say that I am sorry that
any unpleasant words should have passed
between us. I didn't like to go to bed without
saying good night."

Miss Carrington made no answer. She was
engaged now with the supper-tray, but she
seemed rather to be playing with the food than
eating it. She swallowed a few mouthfuls, and
then pushed the plate away; but she drank the
beer eagerly, and with a sort of feverish thirst.
"What horrid stuff!" she said, as she finished
it. Then she seemed to remember what
Gabrielle had said.

"You must not imagine," she answered at
last, "that I am going to give up my intention
of leaving. If you have come with the idea of
persuading me to remain, you have troubled
yourself uselessly."

"Oh no, I never thought of such a thing for
a moment," was the answer to this somewhat
ungracious speech.

"I shall certainly leave to-morrow," continued
Miss Carrington. "After what has
happened, I should not think of remaining
longer."

"Yes, but you won't go away in anger? It
is better, no doubt, that we should part, but we
may part without being enemies."

Miss Carrington did not answer for the moment.
She rang the bell, which was responded
to in due time by the fair Cantanker.

"You may take these things down, Jane,"
said her mistress.

"Why, if you haven't been and left them
beautiful eggs almost untouched!" said the
maiden. "It's positively a sin and a shame."

"I've no appetite this evening," answered
the lady. "By-the-by, Jane, where did you get
that beer? it's the nastiest I ever tasted."

"Well, miss, I tried a new public round the
corner. The tap at Mr. Giles's where we have
dealt previous was not a good one, so I thought
I would try the other."

"Ah, well, it's worse than the first; but it
doesn't matter it's the last we shall want."

Cantanker retired with the tray, staring, as
usual, at Gabrielle, and seeming to wonder very
much what she was still doing in her mistress's
apartment.

She did not stay there much longer.

"I won't keep you from your rest now," she
said. "You look tired."

"I am very tired to-night."

"Good night, then," said Gabrielle, holding
out her hand cordially. "Good night, and
good-bye!"

Miss Carringtorn took the proffered hand.
She seemed half asleep already. "Good night,"
she said. "Time enough for good-bye
tomorrow!"

And so they parted.

Gabrielle went down stairs more satisfied
than she had gone up. She had done what she
could. She and her guest were not enemies, at
any rate. Still, she felt oppressed and melancholy.
What were they to do? Miss Carrington
gone, they would be in the same straits to which
they were reduced before her arrival. If what
had happened that day might have been averted,
things might have gone on tolerably at any rate,
and they might have kept their heads above
water till Gilbert got that chance which must
surely come at last.

Gabrielle was determined to sit up for her
husband. She was indeed in no humour for
rest. A great anxiety for the future had taken
possession of her. She tried to look onward
and peer into that future which is so mercifully
hidden from our gaze. Could she fancy a very
different state of things? Could she see her
husband and herself in a comfortable home with
an assured income—in a word, prosperous and
secure? Of course she could not. Can any
one, when the immediate prospect is dark, and
the way to something more brilliant is not
discernible, believe that that way is still there,
though invisible at present? When the dark
side of the cloud is turned towards us, can we
realise fully the silver lining? Lastly, can any
one take a cheerful view of anything when
sitting up for somebody in a lonely house?

At last, Penmore's key was heard turning in
the lock of the street door, and at that sound
the little woman's spirit woke up again. Help,
protection, comfort, seemed to be at hand. It
was a cheerful sound that, somehow. The hand
that turned that key was full of strength and
energy. That hand belonged to her, as did the
man who owned it. And he had come back to
help her and take care of her, and the house
was lonely no longer.

"Why, how cold you are, and pale like a little
ghost! And what business have you to be up
at this time of night?" said Gilbert, as his wife
came out into the passage to receive him.

"Oh, I couldn't go to bed," she answered,
"till you came. I have been so nervous and
miserable." And then she told him of all that
had happened since he left—how she had
repented of having let her anger get the better of
her, how she had sought a reconciliation with
Miss Carrington, and how it had all ended.

"Why, you little goose," he said, as he drew
her towards him, "you have just reversed the
right order of things. It was you who were
injured and insulted, and it was Miss Carrington