uld
think, or something like it?"

"Yes, sir: there is a woman who sews here, called Grace Poole,--she
laughs in that way. She is a singular person."

"Just so. Grace Poole--you have guessed it. She is, as you say,
singular--very. Well, I shall reflect on the subject. Meantime, I am
glad that you are the only person, besides myself, acquainted with the
precise details of to-night's incident. You are no talking fool: say
nothing about it. I will account for this state of affairs" (pointing to
the bed): "and now return to your own room. I shall do very well on the
sofa in the library for the rest of the night. It is near four:--in two
hours the servants will be up."

"Good-night, then, sir," said I, departing.

He seemed surprised--very inconsistently so, as he had just told me to
go.

"What!" he exclaimed, "are you quitting me already, and in that way?"

"You said I might go, sir."

"But not without taking leave; not without a word or two of
acknowledgment and good-will: not, in short, in that brief, dry fashion.
Why, you have saved my life!--snatched me from a horrible and
excruciating death! and you walk past me as if we were mutual strangers!
At least shake hands."

He held out his hand; I gave him mine: he took it first in one, them in
both his own.

"You have saved my life: I have a pleasure in owing you so immense a
debt. I cannot say more. Nothing else that has being would have been
tolerable to me in the character of creditor for such an obligation: but
you: it is different;--I feel your benefits no burden, Jane."

He paused; gazed at me: words almost visible trembled on his lips,--but
his voice was checked.

"Good-night again, sir. There is no debt, benefit, burden, obligation,
in the case."

"I knew," he continued, "you would do me good in some way, at some
time;--I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you: their expression
and smile did not"--(again he stopped)--"did not" (he proceeded hastily)
"strike delight to my very inmost heart so for nothing. People talk of
natural sympathies; I have heard of good genii: there are grains of truth
in the wildest fable. My cherished preserver, goodnight!"

Strange energy was in his voice, strange fire in his look.

"I am glad I happened to be awake," I said: and then I was going.

"What! you _will_ go?"

"I am cold, sir."

"Cold? Yes,--and standing in a pool! Go, then, Jane; go!" But he still
retained my hand, and I could not fre