isappointed tone. "I will not intrude, then. How are your nephews, and
Mrs. Ormonde? I seem to have lost sight of every one, for I have become
a very busy man."

"Yes, I know," she returned, her color going and coming, her heart
beating so fast she could hardly speak. "I must seem so rude! But I have
read some of your papers in _The Age_. It must, indeed, take time and
study to produce such articles."

"And patience on the part of a young lady to wade through them."

"No; they always interest me, even when a little over my head. Though I
do not want you to come and see me, I am always so glad to hear about
you, to know you are well."

"Then why avoid me?"

"How can I help it?"--looking at him with dewy eyes and quivering lips.

"Well, I must accept your decision. I wish--But I will not detain you."
He opened the carriage door and handed her in.

For an instant her eyes sought his with a wistful, deprecating look,
then she said, "Tell him 'home,' please," and she drove off.

The encounter unhinged her for the day. Why had he crossed her path, and
why had she allowed herself to reject his friendly offer to come and see
her? Yet it would have made her miserable to bear the quiet scrutiny of
his eyes through a whole visit. He had evidently quite forgiven her, but
that could not restore her self-respect or render her less keenly alive
to the silent reproach of his presence. And yet it was pleasant to hear
him speak, his voice was so clear, so well modulated, so intelligent.
And how well he looked!--better and brighter than she had ever seen him.
It was evident that he was not breaking his heart about Lady Alice. How
could she have given him up?

Though nothing was more natural or probable than that they should meet
when both lived in the same town, huge as it is, it was an immense
surprise to Katherine, who had somehow come to the conclusion that they
were never to set eyes on each other again. This impression upset her.
She was constantly on the outlook for Errington wherever she drove or
walked, and the composure which she had been diligently, and with a sort
of sad resignation to Errington's wishes, building up, was replaced by a
feverish, restless anticipation of she knew not what.

The result was increased eagerness to see the completion of her
dressmaking scheme, and she made Mr. Newton's life a burden to him till
all was accomplished.

In this she found a shrewd assistant in Mrs. Needham, who took up the