k beneath my tread; I burst into, rather than entered,
the library,--not seeing her, I think, or not pausing to see her, in
the accustomed manner. When I had come to her I found that the child
was not with her, as usual. She was sitting alone by the library table
under the drop-light, which held a shade of red lace. She had a gown
of white wool trimmed with ermine; a costume which gave me pleasure,
and which she wore upon cool evenings, not too often for me to weary of
it. She regarded my taste in dress as delicately and as delightedly as
she did every other wish or will of mine.

She had been trying to read; but the magazine lay closed upon her knee
below her folded hands. Her face wore an anxious look as she turned
the fine contours of her head toward me.

"Oh," she cried, "at last!"

She moved to reach me, swiftly, murmuring something which I did not
hear, or to which I did not attend; and under the crimson curtains met
me, warm and dear and white, putting up her sweet arms.

I kissed her carelessly--would to God that I could forget it! I kissed
her as if it did not matter much, and said:--

"Helen, I must have my dinner this instant!"

"Why, surely," she said, retreating from me with a little shock of
pained surprise, "It is all ready, Esmerald. I will ring."

She melted from my arms. Oh, if I had known, if I had known! She
stirred and slipped and was gone from me, and I stood stupidly looking
at her; her figure, against the tall, full book-cases, shone mistily,
while she touched the old-fashioned bell-rope of gold cord.

"Really, I hadn't time to come home at all," I added testily. "I am
driven to death. I've got to go again in ten minutes. But I supposed
you would worry if I didn't show myself. It is a foolish waste of
time. I don't know how I am ever going to get through. I wish I
hadn't come."

CHAPTER IV.

She changed colour--from fair to flush, from red to white again--and
her hand upon the gold cord trembled. I remembered it afterward,
though I was not conscious of noticing it at the time.

"You need not," she replied, in her low, controlled voice, "on my
account. You need never come again."

"It is easier to come," I answered irritably, "than to know that you
sit here making yourself miserable because I don't."

"Have I ever fretted you about coming, Esmerald? I did not know it."

"It would be easier if you did fret!" I cried crossly. "I'd rather
you'd say a thing th