now recommencing after a pause.

Egremont glanced towards the tower, startled and seemingly annoyed.

'I'm very sorry I couldn't come to the library this morning, Miss
Trent,' he said, very formally. 'I was unexpectedly kept away.'

What automaton had taken his place and spoke in this contemptible tone
of conventional politeness?

'Those bells are so loud,' Thyrza said, complainingly. 'I wanted to--to
ask you something. May I go with you a little further--just to the
bridge?'

He said nothing, but looked at her and walked on. They entered the
bridge. Egremont still advanced, and Thyrza kept by him, till they were
nearly on the Westminster side of the river. Very few people passed
them, and no vehicles disturbed the quiet of the dark road along the
waterside. On the one hand was a black mass of wharfs, a few barges
moored in front; on the other, at a little distance, the gloomy shape
of Millbank prison. The jangle of the bells was softened.

'They certainly might be more musical,' Egremont said, with a forced
laugh. 'I should not care to live in one of the houses just under the
church.'

She was speaking.

'I waited this morning. Oh, it didn't matter; but I was afraid--I
thought you might have had some accident, Mr. Egremont.'

'No. It was business that prevented me from coming. But you wish to ask
me something, Miss Trent?'

'If you will be there to-morrow--that was all. I like helping. I like
looking at the books, and putting them up--if you would let me.'

The nearest lamp showed him her face. What held him from making that
pale loveliness his own? His heart throbbed as terribly as hers; he
with difficulty heard when she spoke, so loud was the rush of blood in
his ears.

But he had begun the fight with himself. He could not turn away
abruptly and leave her standing there; if the victory were to be won,
it must be by sheer wrestle with the temptation, for her sake as well
as his own. To let her so much as suspect his feeling were as bad as to
utter it; nay, infinitely worse, for it would mean that he must not see
her after to-night. He and she would then be each other's peril in a
far direr sense than now.

He replied to her

'I'm so sorry; I shall not be there to-morrow. I have to go out of
London.'

He looked her in the face unwaveringly. It was the look which tormented
her, not that which she yearned for. She could not move away her eyes.

'You are going away, Mr. Egremont?'

'Yes, I am going