e me a little
comfort to take back with me to my solitude. I didn't notice that there
were other persons present when I asked leave to kiss you. May I hope
that you forgive me?"

He held out his hand; it was not taken. He waited a little, in the vain
hope that she would relent: she turned away from him.

A spasm of pain distorted his handsome face. He opened the door that led
to his side of the cottage--paused--and looked back at Cristel. She took
no notice of him. As he moved again to the door and left us, the
hysterical passion in him forced its way outward--he burst into tears.

The dog sprang up from his refuge under the table, and shook himself
joyfully. Cristel breathed again freely, and joined me at my end of the
room. Shall I make another acknowledgment of weakness? I began to fear
that we might all of us (even including the dog!) have been a little hard
on the poor deaf wretch who had gone away in such bitter distress. I
communicated this view of the matter to Cristel. She failed to see it as
I did.

The dog laid his head on her lap, asking to be caressed. She patted him
while she answered me.

"I agree with this old friend, Mr. Gerard. We were both of us frightened,
on the very first day, when the person you are pitying came to lodge with
us. I have got to hate him, since that time--perhaps to despise him. But
the dog has never changed; he feels and knows there is something dreadful
in that man. One of these days, poor Ponto may turn out to be right.--May
I ask you something, sir?"

"Of course!"

"You won't think I am presuming on your kindness?"

"You ought to know me better than that, Cristel!"

"The truth is, sir, I have been a little startled by what I saw in our
lodger's face, when he asked if you were his enemy or his friend. I know
he is thought to be handsome--but, Mr. Gerard, those beautiful eyes of
his sometimes tell tales; and I have seen his pretty complexion change to
a color that turned him into an ugly man. Will you tell me what you wrote
when you answered him?"

I repeated what I had written, word for word. It failed to satisfy her.

"He is very vain," she said, "and you may have wounded his vanity by
treating him like a stranger, after he had given you his writings to
read, and invited you to his room. But I thought I saw something much
worse than mortification in his face. Shall I be taking a liberty, if I
ask how it was you got acquainted with him last night?"

She was evident