out. But he turned with her,
and then loosed it again.

"You are not coming with me, Mr. Verner?"

"I shall see you home."

"But--I had rather you did not. I prefer--not to trouble you."

"Pardon me, Lucy. I cannot suffer you to go alone."

It was a calm reply, quietly spoken. There were no fine phrases of its
being "no trouble," that the "trouble was a pleasure," as others might
indulge in. Fine phrases from them! from the one to the other! Neither
could have spoken them.

Lucy said no more, and they walked on side by side in silence, both
unpleasantly self-conscious. Lionel's face had resumed its strange
expression of care. Lucy had observed it when she came up to him; she
observed it still.

"You look as though you had some great trouble upon you, Mr. Verner,"
she said, after a while.

"Then I look what is the truth. I have one, Lucy."

"A heavy one?" asked Lucy, struck with his tone.

"A grievously heavy one. One that does not often fall to the lot of
man."

"May I know it?" she timidly said.

"No, Lucy. If I could speak it, it would only give you pain; but it is
of a private nature. Possibly it may be averted; it is at present a
suspected dread, not a confirmed one. Should it become confirmed, you
will learn it in common with all the world."

She looked up at him, puzzled; sympathy in her mantling blush, in her
soft, dark, earnest eyes. He could not avoid contrasting that truthful
face with another's frivolous one; and I can't help it if you blame him.
He did his best to shake off the feeling, and looked down at her with a
careless smile.

"Don't let it give you concern, Lucy. My troubles must rest upon my own
head.".

"Have you seen any more of that man who was watching? Roy."

"No. But I don't believe now that it was Roy. He strongly denies it, and
I have had my suspicions diverted to another quarter."

"To one who may be equally wishing to do you harm?"

"I cannot say. If it be the party I--I suspect, he may deem that I have
done him harm."

"You!" echoed Lucy. "And have you?"

"Yes. Unwittingly. It seems to be my fate, I think, to work harm
upon--upon those whom I would especially shield from it."

Did he allude to her? Lucy thought so, and the flush on her cheeks
deepened. At that moment the rain began to pour down heavily. They were
then passing the thicket of trees where those adventurous ghost-hunters
had taken up their watch a few nights previously, in view of the Willow
Pond.