me here. I like being here. The air of
your library soothes me; the sight of Mrs. Valeria is balm to my wounded
heart. She has something to tell me--something that I am dying to hear.
If she is not too tired after her journey, and if you will let her tell
it, I promise to have myself taken away when she has done. Dear Mr.
Benjamin, you look like the refuge of the afflicted. I am afflicted.
Shake hands like a good Christian, and take me in."

He held out his hand. His soft blue eyes melted into an expression of
piteous entreaty. Completely stupefied by the amazing harangue of which
he had been made the object, Benjamin took the offered hand, with
the air of a man in a dream. "I hope I see you well, sir," he said,
mechanically--and then looked around at me, to know what he was to do
next.

"I understand Mr. Dexter," I whispered. "Leave him to me."

Benjamin stole a last bewildered look at the object in the chair; bowed
to it, with the instinct of politeness which never failed him; and
(still with the air of a man in a dream) withdrew into the next room.

Left together, we looked at each other, for the first moment, in
silence.

Whether I unconsciously drew on that inexhaustible store of indulgence
which a woman always keeps in reserve for a man who owns that he has
need of her, or whether, resenting as I did Mr. Playmore's horrible
suspicion of him, my heart was especially accessible to feelings of
compassion in his unhappy case, I cannot tell. I only know that I pitied
Miserrimus Dexter at that moment as I had never pitied him yet; and that
I spared him the reproof which I should certainly have administered
to any other man who had taken the liberty of establishing himself,
uninvited, in Benjamin's house.

He was the first to speak.

"Lady Clarinda has destroyed your confidence in me!" he began, wildly.

"Lady Clarinda has done nothing of the sort," I replied. "She has not
attempted to influence my opinion. I was really obliged to leave London,
as I told you."

He sighed, and closed his eyes contentedly, as if I had relieved him of
a heavy weight of anxiety.

"Be merciful to me," he said, "and tell me something more. I have been
so miserable in your absence." He suddenly opened his eyes again, and
looked at me with an appearance of the greatest interest. "Are you very
much fatigued by traveling?" he proceeded. "I am hungry for news of what
happened at the Major's dinner party. Is it cruel of me to tell you so