ness and misery on both sides. That last look of hers had sunk
into my heart; I could not forget it. But what a fool I was! Had she
not deceived me, injured me--blighted my happiness for life? 'Well, I'll
see her, however,' was my concluding resolve, 'but not to-day: to-day and
to-night she may think upon her sins, and be as miserable as she will:
to-morrow I will see her once again, and know something more about her.
The interview may be serviceable to her, or it may not. At any rate, it
will give a breath of excitement to the life she has doomed to
stagnation, and may calm with certainty some agitating thoughts.'

I did go on the morrow, but not till towards evening, after the business
of the day was concluded, that is, between six and seven; and the
westering sun was gleaming redly on the old Hall, and flaming in the
latticed windows, as I reached it, imparting to the place a cheerfulness
not its own. I need not dilate upon the feelings with which I approached
the shrine of my former divinity--that spot teeming with a thousand
delightful recollections and glorious dreams--all darkened now by one
disastrous truth

Rachel admitted me into the parlour, and went to call her mistress, for
she was not there: but there was her desk left open on the little round
table beside the high-backed chair, with a book laid upon it. Her
limited but choice collection of books was almost as familiar to me as my
own; but this volume I had not seen before. I took it up. It was Sir
Humphry Davy's 'Last Days of a Philosopher,' and on the first leaf was
written, 'Frederick Lawrence.' I closed the book, but kept it in my
hand, and stood facing the door, with my back to the fire-place, calmly
waiting her arrival; for I did not doubt she would come. And soon I
heard her step in the hall. My heart was beginning to throb, but I
checked it with an internal rebuke, and maintained my
composure--outwardly at least. She entered, calm, pale, collected.

'To what am I indebted for this favour, Mr. Markham?' said she, with such
severe but quiet dignity as almost disconcerted me; but I answered with a
smile, and impudently enough,--

'Well, I am come to hear your explanation.'

'I told you I would not give it,' said she. 'I said you were unworthy of
my confidence.'

'Oh, very well,' replied I, moving to the door.

'Stay a moment,' said she. 'This is the last time I shall see you: don't
go just yet.'

I remained, awaiting her furthe