did he say?"

"What you wished him to say. He did his best; he was as obstinate and
unfeeling as you could possibly wish him to be; but he was too late.
I have written to Mrs. Rook, and I have received a reply." She spoke
sadly, not angrily--and pointed to the letter lying on her desk.

Alban understood: he looked at her in despair. "Is that wretched woman
doomed to set us at variance every time we meet!" he exclaimed.

Emily silently held out the letter.

He refused to take it. "The wrong you have done me is not to be set
right in that way," he said. "You believe the doctor's visit was
arranged between us. I never knew that he intended to call on you; I had
no interest in sending him here--and I must not interfere again between
you and Mrs. Rook."

"I don't understand you."

"You will understand me when I tell you how my conversation with Doctor
Allday ended. I have done with interference; I have done with advice.
Whatever my doubts may be, all further effort on my part to justify
them--all further inquiries, no matter in what direction--are at an end:
I made the sacrifice, for your sake. No! I must repeat what you said
to me just now; I deserve no thanks. What I have done, has been done in
deference to Doctor Allday--against my own convictions; in spite of my
own fears. Ridiculous convictions! ridiculous fears! Men with morbid
minds are their own tormentors. It doesn't matter how I suffer, so long
as you are at ease. I shall never thwart you or vex you again. Have you
a better opinion of me now?"

She made the best of all answers--she gave him her hand.

"May I kiss it?" he asked, as timidly as if he had been a boy addressing
his first sweetheart.

She was half inclined to laugh, and half inclined to cry. "Yes, if you
like," she said softly.

"Will you let me come and see you again?"

"Gladly--when I return to London."

"You are going away?"

"I am going to Brighton this afternoon, to stay with Miss Ladd."

It was hard to lose her, on the happy day when they understood each
other at last. An expression of disappointment passed over his face.
He rose, and walked restlessly to the window. "Miss Ladd?" he repeated,
turning to Emily as if an idea had struck him. "Did I hear, at the
school, that Miss de Sor was to spend the holidays under the care of
Miss Ladd?"

"Yes."

"The same young lady," he went on, "who paid you a visit yesterday
morning?"

"The same."

That haunting distrust of the future,