to have been necessary, for at first sight the room
appeared untenanted; but as I turned to look for my writing-case a
stifled sob met my ear, and a closer inspection enabled me to perceive
the form of Clara Saville, with her face buried in the cushions,
half-sitting, half-reclining on the sofa, while so silently had I
effected my entrance that as yet she was not aware of my approach. My
first impulse was to withdraw and leave her undisturbed, but unluckily
a slight noise which I made in endeavouring to do so attracted her
attention, and she started up in alarm, regarding me with a wild,
half-frightened gaze, as if she scarcely recognised me.

"I beg your pardon," I began hastily, "I am afraid I have disturbed
you--I came to fetch--that is to look for--my--" and here I stopped
short, for to my surprise and consternation Miss Saville, after making
a strong but ineffectual effort to regain her composure, sank back upon
the sofa, and, covering her face with her hands, burst into a violent
flood of tears. I can scarcely conceive a situation more painful, or
in which it would be more difficult to know how to act, than the one
in which I now found myself. The sight of a woman's tears must always
produce a powerful effect upon a man of any feeling, leading him to wish
to comfort and assist her to the utmost of his ability; but, if the fair
weeper be one in whose welfare you take the deepest interest, and yet
with whom you are not on terms of sufficient intimacy to entitle you
to offer the consolation your heart would dictate, the position becomes
doubly embarrassing. For my part, so overcome was I by a perfect chaos
of emotions, that I remained for some moments like one thunder-stricken,
while she continued to sob as though her heart were breaking. At length
I could stand it no longer, and scarcely knowing what I was going to
say or do, I placed myself on the sofa beside her, and taking one of her
hands, which now hung listlessly down, in my own, I exclaimed:--

"Miss Saville--Clara--dear Clara! I cannot bear to see you so unhappy,
it makes me miserable to look at you--tell me, what can I do to
help you--to comfort you--something must be possible--you have
no brother--let ~279~~ me be one to you--tell me why you are so
wretched--and oh! do not cry so bitterly!"

When I first addressed her she started slightly, and attempted to
withdraw her hand, but as I proceeded she allowed it to remain quietly
in mine, and though she stil