hateful string—that Mr. Thompson seemed
quite smitten with Mrs. Norris. "And what do
you think, my dear?" she added; "he thought
you were gone. He seemed quite surprised
when I said I had seen you on Sunday. 'What,
is she not gone?' he asked—'gone to London?'
'No, indeed! What should she go to London
for?' He did not answer that, but, from
something he said, I saw he thought you were
engaged to be married. 'I wish she were, poor
dear!' I replied: 'it is a hard case to be so
young and so lonely.' I have no doubt he
thinks so too, and so it is to prevent Mrs.
Norris from being lonely that he goes to see
her so often." Thus she rattled on, stabbing
me with every word, till at length she
left me to my misery. I sat looking at the fire;
it was bright and warm, but my loneliness was
heavy upon me; besides, it had been snowing,
and the grey sky and white garden and silent
air had something both lone and chill in them.
Yet I was not quite alone. Early in the winter
I had taken in a poor half-starved stray dog, and,
though he was but a shaggy half-bred cur, I had
made a pet of him. He had laid by his vagrant
habits willingly enough, and he now lay sleeping
on the rug at my feet. Poor Carlo! he heeded
not the morrow, and thought not of the future.
Yet how long could I keep him?—and if I cast
him away, who would have him? He had
neither youth nor beauty to recommend
him—nothing but his old honest heart, and who
would care for that? "Poor Carlo—poor old
Carlo!" I thought; and, perhaps because my
heart was rather full just then, tears rose to my
eyes as I thought of the fate that lay before
him. I believe I thought of something else
too. I remember a vision I saw in the burning
coals; how it came there Heaven knows.
I saw them both, as no doubt they often were,
bending over accounts which they read
together, then looking up and exchanging looks
and smiles which no one could mistake. I
wonder why I came back to images which
tortured me—but it was so. I do not know
how long Mrs. Gray had been gone, when Carlo
gave a short bark; the gate-bell rang; I saw a
tall dark form pass across the window, and my
little maid opened the door, saying:

"Mr. Thompson, ma'am."

I rose. He came in, with his umbrella as
usual, and Carlo went up to him and wagged a
friendly welcome. I could not say one word.
I was dreadfully agitated. I felt quite sure he
had come to tell me that he meant to marry
Jessie, and to ask me to go and stay with them,
or something of the kind. Nothing else could
have brought him. Or perhaps, as Jessie had, no
doubt, told him that I was gone, he had, on learning
the truth, felt ashamed of his long coldness,
and had come to make some sort of excuse. He
made none; but he asked how I was, took a chair,
looked rather hard at me, and, without waiting
for my answer, feared I was not very well.

"Oh! I am not ill, you know," I replied, a
little carelessly. "I trust you are well, Mr.
Thompson."

He said he was very well, and he looked at the
fire. For a while we were both silent. I spoke
first. My remark was scarcely a gracious one.

"I heard you were so much engaged that
I scarcely expected to see you," I said.

I was vexed with myself as soon as I had said
it. He might think I was annoyed at his long
absence, and, surely, I was not? But he took
my implied reproach very well. He answered
that he had, indeed, been much engaged; but
that everything was over now. Mrs. Norris,
he added, had left this morning. My heart
gave a great throb; but I was mute.

"She left in no very contented mood, I
believe," he resumed. "The balance in her favour
was low—lower than I expected. Mrs. Norris
has something like a hundred a year. This
and a few jewels constitute the net profit she
derives from her marriage. Unluckily, these
speculations cannot be repeated often, you see.
The capital of youth and beauty has but a time
—a brief one; it is apt to wear out, and the
first venture ought to be the best. Mrs. Norris,
not having found it so, is disappointed. I
suppose it is natural; but you know I cannot pity
her very much."

I supposed not; but how all that cold, hard
talk pained me.

"I have a fancy," he resumed, "that this
kind lady expected some other ending to our
accounts. This is not very flattering to my
vanity, unless, indeed, as showing my marketable
value; is it, now?"

I would not answer that question. His tone,
his manner, vexed me. Suddenly he raised his
eyes to mine.

"Did such a rumour reach you?" he asked.

I could not deny it. My face was in a flame.
I believe I stammered something, but I do not
know what.

"Even you have heard it," he said, looking
scarcely pleased; "the world is very kind. And
you believed it, too! I had hoped you knew
me better."

He seemed quite hurt; but I offered no
justification. Then he rather formally asked to be
allowed to mention the business that brought
him. So it was business! I scorned myself
for my folly, which was not dead yet, and I
bade him speak.

Was I asleep or dreaming? Mr. Thompson
spoke of my aunt, her love for me, my forlorn
position, and expressed the strongest wish to
take care of me.

"But," he added, with some hesitation, "I
can do so but in one fashion—as your husband.
Will you overlook all those peculiarities in my
temper, which used to annoy you, I fear, and
take what there is of true and good in me? Can
you, will you, do this?"

He looked at me in doubt. Ah! this was
one of my bitterest moments. He cared so
little for me, that he had never seen, never
suspected, how much I loved him. And he
expected me to take him so. I clasped my hands
and twisted them nervously; I could not speak
at once.