and some degree of composure. Already the rapid walking had somewhat
mitigated my excitement; and with a firm and steady tread I paced the
garden-walk. In passing the inhabited wing of the building, I caught a
sight of Mrs. Graham, through the open window, slowly pacing up and down
her lonely room.

She seemed agitated and even dismayed at my arrival, as if she thought I
too was coming to accuse her. I had entered her presence intending to
condole with her upon the wickedness of the world, and help her to abuse
the vicar and his vile informants, but now I felt positively ashamed to
mention the subject, and determined not to refer to it, unless she led
the way.

'I am come at an unseasonable hour,' said I, assuming a cheerfulness I
did not feel, in order to reassure her; 'but I won't stay many minutes.'

She smiled upon me, faintly it is true, but most kindly--I had almost
said thankfully, as her apprehensions were removed.

'How dismal you are, Helen! Why have you no fire?' I said, looking round
on the gloomy apartment.

'It is summer yet,' she replied.

'But we always have a fire in the evenings, if we can bear it; and you
especially require one in this cold house and dreary room.'

'You should have come a little sooner, and I would have had one lighted
for you: but it is not worth while now--you won't stay many minutes, you
say, and Arthur is gone to bed.'

'But I have a fancy for a fire, nevertheless. Will you order one, if I
ring?'

'Why, Gilbert, you don't look cold!' said she, smilingly regarding my
face, which no doubt seemed warm enough.

'No,' replied I, 'but I want to see you comfortable before I go.'

'Me comfortable!' repeated she, with a bitter laugh, as if there were
something amusingly absurd in the idea. 'It suits me better as it is,'
she added, in a tone of mournful resignation.

But determined to have my own way, I pulled the bell.

'There now, Helen!' I said, as the approaching steps of Rachel were heard
in answer to the summons. There was nothing for it but to turn round and
desire the maid to light the fire.

I owe Rachel a grudge to this day for the look she cast upon me ere she
departed on her mission, the sour, suspicious, inquisitorial look that
plainly demanded, 'What are you here for, I wonder?' Her mistress did
not fail to notice it, and a shade of uneasiness darkened her brow.

'You must not stay long, Gilbert,' said she, when the door was closed
upon us.

'I'm