e writing
and the writer could never be glorified enough, I had wrought round the
margin of the pages a border of fanciful arabesque, which I had filled
in with colours and gold.

I turned over the pages absently. By and by I heard footsteps coming
down the gallery, and voices drawing near me. I hoped that, whoever the
people were, they might pass on without perceiving me. I did not like
the idea of strangers peeping in behind the screen and wondering who I
could be. But the people came nearer, still conversing in low earnest
tones, the sound of which made me start and wonder. They came up to the
screen, which was just at the end of the gallery, and stopped there as
people will pause at the extremity of a walk before they turn to retrace
their steps. And it seemed as if my heart paused with them, for the
speakers were Rachel Leonard and John Hollingford, and this was the
conversation I heard:

"I think you are very unkind, John," said Rachel; and she spoke
sullenly, and as if she had been crying. "I only ask you not to hurry
me, to give me time, and you complain as if I had refused altogether."

"I do not understand why you should want time," replied John; "if what
you have told me is true, if what you have promised is in good faith, I
do not see why you should delay making everything known."

"Nor do I see why you should wish for haste," said Rachel. "The
announcement will be painful enough when it must be made. Have you ever
thought of what Margery will say?"

"Margery! God bless her!" said John earnestly, "Sweet, unselfish soul!
It will be a shock, but she will get over it. While this is going on,
her eyes are a continual reproach to me. The position is intolerable. If
you will not speak soon I must break my promise to you, and enlighten
her."

"No, no, no!" said Rachel passionately. "She suspects nothing, and let
her rest awhile. She will not take it so quietly as you think. Every one
will cry out at me, and I know that I deserve it. Pity me, John"--here
her voice broke down--"but, for God's sake, leave me to myself for a
time."

"Let it be a short time, then," said John, sadly. "I must say I am
grieved to see that this is such a hard trial to you. After all that has
been, all you have told me, I did not expect to find you so weak and
selfish."

"I am weak and I am selfish," sobbed Rachel; "do not expect to find me
anything else. I am struggling to be something better; but whatever I
am, John, be sure tha