o her object or fancy; she may have done the
deed in the very abstraction of deep sadness. She may have been moaning
from the bottom of her heart, 'How unhappy am I!' But the impression
produced on Knight was not a good one. He dropped his eyes moodily. The
dead woman's letter had a virtue in the accident of its juncture far
beyond any it intrinsically exhibited. Circumstance lent to evil words a
ring of pitiless justice echoing from the grave. Knight could not endure
their possession. He tore the letter into fragments.

He heard a brushing among the bushes behind, and turning his head he saw
Elfride following him. The fair girl looked in his face with a wistful
smile of hope, too forcedly hopeful to displace the firmly established
dread beneath it. His severe words of the previous night still sat heavy
upon her.

'I saw you from my window, Harry,' she said timidly.

'The dew will make your feet wet,' he observed, as one deaf.

'I don't mind it.'

'There is danger in getting wet feet.'

'Yes...Harry, what is the matter?'

'Oh, nothing. Shall I resume the serious conversation I had with you
last night? No, perhaps not; perhaps I had better not.'

'Oh, I cannot tell! How wretched it all is! Ah, I wish you were your own
dear self again, and had kissed me when I came up! Why didn't you ask me
for one? why don't you now?'

'Too free in manner by half,' he heard murmur the voice within him.

'It was that hateful conversation last night,' she went on. 'Oh, those
words! Last night was a black night for me.'

'Kiss!--I hate that word! Don't talk of kissing, for God's sake! I
should think you might with advantage have shown tact enough to keep
back that word "kiss," considering those you have accepted.'

She became very pale, and a rigid and desolate charactery took
possession of her face. That face was so delicate and tender in
appearance now, that one could fancy the pressure of a finger upon it
would cause a livid spot.

Knight walked on, and Elfride with him, silent and unopposing. He opened
a gate, and they entered a path across a stubble-field.

'Perhaps I intrude upon you?' she said as he closed the gate. 'Shall I
go away?'

'No. Listen to me, Elfride.' Knight's voice was low and unequal.
'I have been honest with you: will you be so with me? If
any--strange--connection has existed between yourself and a predecessor
of mine, tell it now. It is better that I know it now, even though the
knowledge should pa