e
was dusty, and the pictures on the walls hung askew. Harriet closed the
door behind them, and proceeded to point out the new picture, and
discuss the various positions which had occurred to her. Julian would
have decided the question as speedily as possible, and once or twice
moved to return downstairs, but each time the girl found something new
to detain him. Opening a drawer, she took out several paltry little
ornaments, which she wished him to admire, and, in showing them, stood
very close by his side. All at once the door of the room was pushed
open, and a woman ran in. On seeing the stranger present, she darted
back with an exclamation of surprise.

"Oh, Miss Smales, I didn't know as you wasn't alone! I heard you moving
about, and come just to arst you to lend me--but never mind, I'm so
sorry; why didn't you lock the door?"

And she bustled out again, apparently in much confusion.

Harriet had dropped the thing she held in her hand, and stood looking
at her cousin as if dismayed.

"I never thought any one was in," she said nervously. "It's Miss Mould,
the lodger. She went out before I did, and I never heard her come back.
Whatever will she think!"

"But of course," he stammered, "you will explain everything to her. She
knows who I am, doesn't she?"

"I don't think so, and, even if she did--"

She stopped, and stood with eyes on the ground, doing her best to
display maiden confusion. Then she began to cry.

"But surely, surely there is no need to trouble yourself," exclaimed
Julian, almost distracted, beginning to be dimly conscious of all
manner of threatening possibilities. "I will speak to the woman myself,
and clear you of every--. Oh, but this is all nonsense. Let us go down
at once, Harriet. What a pity you asked me to come up here!"

It was the nearest to a reproach that he had ever yet addressed to her.
His face showed clearly how distressed he was, and that on his own
account more than hers, for he could not conceive any blame save on
himself for being so regardless of appearances.

"Go as quietly as ever you can," Harriet whispered. "The stairs creak
so. Step very softly."

This was terrible to the poor fellow. To steal down in this guilty way
was as bad as a confession of evil intentions, and he so entirely
innocent of a shadow of evil even in his thought. Yet he could not but
do as she bade him. Even on the stairs she urged him in a very loud
whisper to be yet more cautious. He was out of