th his face bent once
more over the book. "Are you really attached to this lady? Have you
thought seriously already of asking her to be your wife?"

"I am thinking seriously of it at this moment," said Allan. "I can't be
happy--I can't live without her. Upon my soul, I worship the very ground
she treads on!"

"How long--" His voice faltered, and he stopped. "How long," he
reiterated, "have you worshipped the very ground she treads on?"

"Longer than you think for. I know I can trust you with all my
secrets--"

"Don't trust me!"

"Nonsense! I _will_ trust you. There is a little difficulty in the way
which I haven't mentioned yet. It's a matter of some delicacy, and I
want to consult you about it. Between ourselves, I have had private
opportunities with Miss Gwilt--"

Midwinter suddenly started to his feet, and opened the door.

"We'll talk of this to-morrow," he said. "Good-night."

Allan looked round in astonishment. The door was closed again, and he
was alone in the room.

"He has never shaken hands with me!" exclaimed Allan, looking bewildered
at the empty chair.

As the words passed his lips the door opened, and Midwinter appeared
again.

"We haven't shaken hands," he said, abruptly. "God bless you, Allan!
We'll talk of it to-morrow. Good-night."

Allan stood alone at the window, looking out at the pouring rain. He
felt ill at ease, without knowing why. "Midwinter's ways get stranger
and stranger," he thought. "What can he mean by putting me off till
to-morrow, when I wanted to speak to him to-night?" He took up his
bedroom candle a little impatiently, put it down again, and, walking
back to the open window, stood looking out in the direction of the
cottage. "I wonder if she's thinking of me?" he said to himself softly.

She _was_ thinking of him. She had just opened her desk to write to Mrs.
Oldershaw; and her pen had that moment traced the opening line: "Make
your mind easy. I have got him!"

XIII. EXIT.

It rained all through the night, and when the morning came it was
raining still.

Contrary to his ordinary habit, Midwinter was waiting in the
breakfast-room when Allan entered it. He looked worn and weary, but his
smile was gentler and his manner more composed than usual. To Allan's
surprise he approached the subject of the previous night's conversation
of his own accord as soon as the servant was out of the room.

"I am afraid you thought me very impatient and very abrupt with you la