quickly.

"I wish to speak to Miss Dobree," I said. "Is she in the drawing-room?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, in a hesitating tone.

I waited for nothing more, but knocked at the drawing-room door for
myself, and heard Julia call, "Come in."

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH.

SET FREE.

Julia looked very much the same as she had done that evening when I came
reluctantly to tell her that my heart was not in her keeping, but
belonged to another. She wore the same kind of fresh, light muslin
dress, with ribbons and lace about it, and she sat near the window, with
a piece of needle-work in her hands; yet she was not sewing, and her
hands lay listlessly on her lap. But, for this attitude of dejection, I
could have imagined that it was the same day and the same hour, and that
she was still ignorant of the change in my feelings toward her. If it
had not been for our perverse fate, we should now be returning from our
wedding-trip, and receiving the congratulations of our friends. A
mingled feeling of sorrow, pity, and shame, prevented me from advancing
into the room. She looked up to see who was standing in the doorway, and
my appearance there evidently alarmed and distressed her.

"Martin!" she cried.

"May I come in and speak to you, Julia?" I asked.

"Is my aunt worse?" she inquired, hurriedly. "Are you come to fetch me
to her?"

"No, no, Julia," I said; "my mother is as well as usual, I hope. But
surely you will let me speak to you after all this time?"

"It is not a long time," she answered.

"Has it not been long to you?" I asked. "It seems years to me. All life
has changed for me. I had no idea then of my mother's illness."

"Nor I," she said, sighing deeply.

"If I had known it," I continued, "all this might not have happened.
Surely, the troubles I shall have to bear must plead with you for me!"

"Yes, Martin," she answered; "yes, I am very sorry for you."

She came forward and offered me her hand, but without looking into my
face. I saw that she had been crying, for her eyes were red. In a tone
of formal politeness she asked me if I would not sit down. I considered
it best to remain standing, as an intimation that I should not trouble
her with my presence for long.

"My mother loves you very dearly, Julia," I ventured to say, after a
long pause, which she did not seem inclined to break. I had no time to
lose, lest Kate Daltrey should come in, and it was a very difficult
subject to approach.