y no more," replied Mr. Trevannion. As he said this, I heard
footsteps in the passage, and was about to retreat to my own room; but
as the party came without a light, I remained. It was the porter, who
knocked at the sitting-room door, and was requested to come in by Mr.
Trevannion.

"If you please, Sir, Mr. Elrington is gone out, I believe, and I found
this packet directed to you on the table of the inner room, and also
this bag of money, which I suppose you forgot to put away before you
left."

"Very well, Humphrey, leave them on the table."

The man did so, and quitted the room, not perceiving me in the dark as
he passed through the ante-room.

"He has not taken the money," observed Mr. Trevannion. "He might have
done so, as he ought to be paid for his services."

"I presume, my dear father, that his feelings were too much hurt by
what passed," said Miss Trevannion. "There are obligations which
cannot be repaid with gold."

"These, I perceive, are the keys of the safe; I did not think that he
would have gone away this night."

I now considered it high time to quit the ante-room, where I had been
irresistibly detained by the conversation which took place. I hastened
to my own chamber, determined that I would leave the house the next
morning before any one was stirring. I gained it in the dark, but
having the means of striking a light, I did so, and packed up all my
clothes ready for my departure. I had just fastened down my valise,
when I perceived a light on the further end of the long corridor which
led to my apartment. Thinking it might be Mr. Trevannion, and not
wishing to see him, I blew out my own light and retreated to a small
dressing-room, within my chamber, communicating by a glass door. The
light evidently approached, and at last I perceived the party was
entering my room, the door of which was wide open. It was Miss
Trevannion who entered, and turning round with her chamber-light in
her hand, appeared to survey the apartment with a mournful air. She
perceived my valise, and her eyes were fixed upon it for some time; at
last she walked up to the dressing-table, and, sitting on the stool
before it, leant down her head upon her hands and wept.

"Alas!" thought I, "if those tears were but for me; but it is not
so--she has been excited, and her tears have come to her relief."

After a time she raised her head from the table, and said, "How unjust
have I been--and I shall see him no more!--if I could