ll, Madam.
A very few words in reply from you will be sufficient. That _I_ should
be the person commissioned on this subject is extraordinary! and believe
me, Madam, it is no less painful. A very few words, however, will put an
end to the awkwardness and distress we may _both_ be feeling.'

Anne spoke a word or two, but they were unintelligible; and before she
could command herself, he added, 'If you will only tell me that the
Admiral may address a line to Sir Walter, it will be enough. Pronounce
only the words, _he may_, and I shall immediately follow him with your
message.'

'No, Sir,' said Anne; 'there is no message. You are misin--the Admiral
is misinformed. I do justice to the kindness of his intentions, but he
is quite mistaken. There is no truth in any such report.'

He was a moment silent. She turned her eyes towards him for the first
time since his re-entering the room. His colour was varying, and he was
looking at her with all the power and keenness which she believed no
other eyes than his possessed.

'No truth in any such report?' he repeated. 'No truth in any _part_ of
it?'

'None.'

He had been standing by a chair, enjoying the relief of leaning on it, or
of playing with it. He now sat down, drew it a little nearer to her, and
looked with an expression which had something more than penetration in
it--something softer. Her countenance did not discourage. It was a
silent but a very powerful dialogue; on his supplication, on hers
acceptance. Still a little nearer, and a hand taken and pressed; and
'Anne, my own dear Anne!' bursting forth in all the fulness of exquisite
feeling,--and all suspense and indecision were over. They were
re-united. They were restored to all that had been lost. They were
carried back to the past with only an increase of attachment and
confidence, and only such a flutter of present delight as made them
little fit for the interruption of Mrs. Croft when she joined them not
long afterwards. _She_, probably, in the observations of the next ten
minutes saw something to suspect; and though it was hardly possible for a
woman of her description to wish the mantua-maker had imprisoned her
longer, she might be very likely wishing for some excuse to run about the
house, some storm to break the windows above, or a summons to the
Admiral's shoemaker below. Fortune favoured them all, however, in
another way, in a gentle, steady rain, just happily set in as the Admiral
retu