w, and altogether hideous. A tiny
bit of arid garden in front gave it a prudish air of withdrawing from
the life and traffic of the thoroughfare. The door opened as Percival
looked, and a woman came out, frigid, thin-lipped and sandy-haired. She
paused on the step and gave an order to the servant: evidently she was
Miss Macgregor. Percival's heart died within him. "That harpy!" he said
under his breath. The door closed behind her, and there was a
prison-like sound of making fast within. The young man turned and walked
away, oppressed by a sense of gray dreariness. "Will she be able to
breathe in that jail?" he wondered to himself. "Bellevue street is a
miserable hole, but at least one is free there." He prolonged his walk a
little, and went through Standon Square. It was bright and pleasant in
the spring sunshine, and the trees in the garden had little leaves on
every twig. A man was painting the railings of Montague House, and
another was putting a brass plate on the door. There was a new name on
it: Miss Crawford's reign was over for ever.

Percival counted the days that still remained before Judith's bondage
would begin and Bellevue street be desolate as of old. Yet, though he
prized every hour, they were miserable days. Lydia Bryant haunted
him--not with her former airs and graces, but with malicious hints in
her speech and little traps set for Miss Lisle and himself. She would
gladly have found an occasion for slander, and Percival read her hate of
Judith in the cunning eyes which watched them both. He felt that he had
already been unwary, and his blood ran cold as he thought of possible
gossip, and the manner in which Lydia's insinuations would be made.
Precious as those few days were, he longed for the end. He thought more
than once of leaving Bellevue street, but such a flight was impossible.
He was chained there by want of money. He could not pay his debt to Mrs.
Bryant for weeks, and he could not leave while it was unpaid. Day after
day he withdrew himself more, and grew almost cold in his reserve,
hoping to escape from Lydia. One morning, as they passed on the stairs,
he looked back and caught a glance from Judith never intended to meet
his eye--a sad and wondering glance--which made his heart ache, even
while filling it with the certainty that he was needed. He answered only
with another glance. It seemed to him to convey nothing of what he felt,
but nevertheless it woke a light in the girl's eyes. Moved by a