r sex. At his age,
and in his position, who could have left her? The man (with a man's
temperament) doesn't live who could have left her. Midwinter went in.

A stupid, sleepy lad opened the house door. Even he, being a male
creature, brightened under the influence of Miss Gwilt. "The urn, John,"
she said, kindly, "and another cup and saucer. I'll borrow your candle
to light my candles upstairs, and then I won't trouble you any more
to-night." John was wakeful and active in an instant. "No trouble,
miss," he said, with awkward civility. Miss Gwilt took his candle with
a smile. "How good people are to me!" she whispered, innocently, to
Midwinter, as she led the way upstairs to the little drawing-room on the
first floor.

She lit the candles, and, turning quickly on her guest, stopped him at
the first attempt he made to remove the knapsack from his shoulders.
"No," she said, gently; "in the good old times there were occasions when
the ladies unarmed their knights. I claim the privilege of unarming
_my_ knight." Her dexterous fingers intercepted his at the straps and
buckles, and she had the dusty knapsack off, before he could protest
against her touching it.

They sat down at the one little table in the room. It was very poorly
furnished; but there was something of the dainty neatness of the woman
who inhabited it in the arrangement of the few poor ornaments on
the chimney-piece, in the one or two prettily bound volumes on
the chiffonier, in the flowers on the table, and the modest little
work-basket in the window. "Women are not all coquettes," she said,
as she took off her bonnet and mantilla, and laid them carefully on a
chair. "I won't go into my room, and look in my glass, and make myself
smart; you shall take me just as I am." Her hands moved about among the
tea-things with a smooth, noiseless activity.

Her magnificent hair flashed crimson in the candle-light, as she turned
her head hither and thither, searching with an easy grace for the things
she wanted in the tray. Exercise had heightened the brilliancy of her
complexion, and had quickened the rapid alternations of expression
in her eyes--the delicious languor that stole over them when she was
listening or thinking, the bright intelligence that flashed from them
softly when she spoke. In the lightest word she said, in the least thing
she did, there was something that gently solicited the heart of the
man who sat with her. Perfectly modest in her manner, poss