rett's voice plainly
as he gave some direction to the groom, but from Arthur she heard
nothing. Yet she was sure that he was come. The very manner of the
approach and her brother's word made her certain that there had been
no disappointment. She stood thinking for a quarter of an hour,
making up her mind how best they might meet. Then suddenly, with slow
but certain step, she walked down into the drawing-room.

No one expected her then, or something perhaps might have been done
to encourage her coming. It had been thought that she must meet him
before dinner, and her absence till then was to be excused. But now
she opened the door, and with much dignity of mien walked into the
middle of the room. Arthur at that moment was discussing the Duke's
chance for the next Session, and Sir Alured was asking with rapture
whether the old Conservative party would not come in. Arthur Fletcher
heard the step, turned round, and saw the woman he loved. He went at
once to meet her, very quickly, and put out both his hands. She gave
him hers, of course. There was no excuse for her refusal. He stood
for an instant pressing them, looking eagerly into her sad face, and
then he spoke. "God bless you, Emily!" he said, "God bless you!" He
had thought of no words, and at the moment nothing else occurred to
him to be said. The colour had covered all his face, and his heart
beat so strongly that he was hardly his own master. She let him hold
her two hands, perhaps for a minute, and then, bursting into tears,
tore herself from him, and, hurrying out of the room, made her way
again into her own chamber. "It will be better so," said old Mrs.
Fletcher. "It will be better so. Do not let any one follow her."

On that day John Fletcher took her out to dinner, and Arthur did not
sit near her. In the evening he came to her as she was working close
to his mother, and seated himself on a low chair close to her knees.
"We are all so glad to see you; are we not, mother?"

"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Fletcher. Then, after a while, the old woman
got up to make a rubber at whist with the two old men and her eldest
son, leaving Arthur sitting at the widow's knee. She would willingly
have escaped, but it was impossible that she should move.

"You need not be afraid of me," he said, not whispering, but in a
voice which no one else could hear. "Do not seem to avoid me, and I
will say nothing to trouble you. I think that you must wish that we
should be friends."

"