ome in a
cab, but Mr. Dosett would not consent to lose his walk. Along the
Embankment they went, and across Charing Cross into St. James's Park,
and then by Green Park, Hyde Park, and Kensington Gardens, all the
way to Notting Hill. Mr. Dosett did not walk very fast, and Tom
thought they would never reach Kingsbury Crescent. His uncle would
fain have talked about the weather, or politics, or the hardships of
the Civil Service generally; but Tom would not be diverted from his
one subject. Would Ayala be gracious to him? Mr. Dosett had made up
his mind to say nothing on the subject. Tom must plead his own cause.
Uncle Reginald thought that he knew such pleading would be useless,
but still would not say a word to daunt the lover. Neither could he
say a word expressive of hope. As they were fully an hour-and-a-half
on their walk, this reticence was difficult.

Immediately on his arrival, Tom was taken up into the drawing-room.
This was empty, for it had been arranged that Mrs. Dosett should be
absent till the meeting was over. "Now I'll look for this child,"
said Uncle Reginald, in his cheeriest voice as he left Tom alone
in the room. Tom, as he looked round at the chairs and tables,
remembered that he had never received as much as a kind word or look
in the room, and then great drops of perspiration broke out all over
his brow. All that he had to hope for in the world must depend upon
the next five minutes;--might depend perhaps upon the very selection
of the words which he might use.

Then Ayala entered the room and stood before him.

"Ayala," he said, giving her his hand.

"Uncle Reg says that you would like to see me once again."

"Of course I want to see you once, and twice,--and always. Ayala, if
you could know it! If you could only know it!" Then he clasped his
two hands high upon his breast, not as though appealing to her heart,
but striking his bosom in very agony. "Ayala, I feel that, if I do
not have you as my own, I can only die for the want of you. Ayala, do
you believe me?"

"I suppose I believe you, but how can I help it?"

"Try to help it! Try to try and help it! Say a word that you will
perhaps help it by-and-bye." Then there came a dark frown upon her
brow,--not, indeed, from anger, but from a feeling that so terrible a
task should be thrown upon her. "I know you think that I am common."

"I have never said a word, Tom, but that I could not love you."

"But I am true,--true as the sun. Would I c