. We have not got very far now";
and she walked on a little faster.

We turned up University Street, and could already see the lights in St.
Olav's Place. Then she commenced to walk slowly again.

"I have no wish to be indiscreet," I say; "but won't you tell me your
name before we part? and won't you, just for one second, lift up your
veil so that I can see you? I would be really so grateful."

A pause. I walked on in expectation.

"You have seen me before," she replies.

"Ylajali," I say again.

"Beg pardon. You followed me once for half-a-day, almost right home.
Were you tipsy that time?"

I could hear again that she smiled.

"Yes," I said. "Yes, worse luck, I was tipsy that time."

"That was horrid of you!"

And I admitted contritely that it was horrid of me.

We reached the fountains; we stop and look up at the many lighted
windows of No. 2.

"Now, you mustn't come any farther with me," she says. "Thank you for
coming so far."

I bowed; I daren't say anything; I took off my hat and stood
bareheaded. I wonder if she will give me her hand.

"Why don't you ask me to go back a little way with you?" she asks, in a
low voice, looking down at the toe of her shoe.

"Great Heavens!" I reply, beside myself, "Great Heavens, if you only
would!"

"Yes; but only a little way."

And we turned round.

I was fearfully confused. I absolutely did not know if I were on my
head or my heels. This creature upset all my chain of reasoning; turned
it topsy-turvy. I was bewitched and extraordinarily happy. It seemed to
me as if I were being dragged enchantingly to destruction. She had
expressly willed to go back; it wasn't my notion, it was her own
desire. I walk on and look at her, and get more and more bold. She
encourages me, draws me to her by each word she speaks. I forget for a
moment my poverty, my humble position, my whole miserable condition. I
feel my blood course madly through my whole body, as in the days before
I caved in, and resolved to feel my way by a little ruse.

"By-the-way, it wasn't you I followed that time," said I. "It was your
sister."

"Was it my sister?" she questions, in the highest degree amazed. She
stands still, looks up at me, and positively waits for an answer. She
puts the question in all sober earnest.

"Yes," I replied. "Hum--m, that is to say, it was the younger of the
two ladies who went on in front of me."

"The youngest, eh? eh? a-a-ha!" she laughed out all at once, loudly