ng more
particularly into her condition, such a look confronted me from the
steady eye immovably fixed upon my own, that my courage--or was it my
natural precaution--bade me subdue the impulse and risk no attempt which
might betray the depth of my interest in one so completely outside
the scope of the present moment's business. Perhaps Mrs. Postlethwaite
appreciated my struggle; perhaps she was wholly blind to it. There was
no reading the mind of this woman of sentimental name but inflexible
nature, and realizing the fact more fully with every word she uttered I
left her at last with no further betrayal of my feelings than might
be evinced by the earnestness with which I promised to return for her
signature at the earliest possible moment.

This she had herself requested, saying as I rose:

"I can still write my name if the paper is pushed carefully along under
my hand. See to it that you come while the power remains to me."

I had hoped that in my passage downstairs I might run upon someone who
would give me news of Miss Postlethwaite, but the woman who approached
to conduct me downstairs was not of an appearance to invite confidence,
and I felt forced to leave the house with my doubts unsatisfied.

Two memories, equally distinct, followed me. One was a picture of Mrs.
Postlethwaite's fingers groping among her belongings on the little
tray perched upon her lap, and another of the intent and strangely
bent figure of the old man who had acted as my usher, listening to
the ticking of one of the great clocks. So absorbed was he in this
occupation that he not only failed to notice me when I went by, but he
did not even lift his head at my cheery greeting. Such mysteries were
too much for me, and led me to postpone my departure from town till I
had sought out Mrs. Postlethwaite's doctor and propounded to him one
or two leading questions. First, would Mrs. Postlethwaite's present
condition be likely to hold good till Monday; and secondly, was the
young lady living with her as ill as her step-mother said.

He was a mild old man of the easy-going type, and the answers I got
from him were far from satisfactory. Yet he showed some surprise when
I mentioned the extent of Mrs. Postlethwaite's anxiety about her
step-daughter, and paused, in the dubious shaking of his head, to give
me a short stare in which I read as much determination as perplexity.

"I will look into Miss Postlethwaite's case more particularly," were his
part