dine with Giles and Dorothea to-day, and meet him. This
morning's work, then, is not irretrievable. I can speak now to Dorothea,
tell her what has occurred, and she will see that I have opportunity to
return him this--and---and things may end in his loving me a little,
after all. Oh, if they could--if, indeed, he had not told me he did not.
He did not look in the least angry,--only surprised and vexed when I
rejected him. He cares so little about me."

She took up the ring, and in course of time went with her old aunt to
dine at her brother's house. She knew John was aware that he was to meet
her; she was therefore deeply disturbed, though perhaps she had no right
to be surprised when Dorothea said--

"We are so much disappointed! John Mortimer has sent this note to excuse
himself from coming back to dinner to-day--or, indeed, coming here at
all to-night. He has to go out, it seems, for two or three days."

"Ay," said Miss Christie, "that's very awkward for him." Miss Christie
had built certain hopes upon that morning's visit. "It seems to me," she
continued, "that John Mortimer's affairs give him twice as much trouble
as they used to do."

Emily was silent; she felt that _this_ was not letting things be as they
had been heretofore. She took up the note. He did not affirm that he was
obliged to go out. Even if he was, what should she do now? She was left
in custody of the ring, and could neither see him nor write to him.

"On Sunday I shall see him. I shall have his hand for a moment; I shall
give him this, after morning service."

But, no. Sunday came; the Mortimers were at church, but not their
father. "Father had walked over to that little chapel-of-ease beyond
Wigfield, that Grand gave the money to build," they said. "He took
Johnnie with him to day."

"Yes," said Barbara, "and he promised next Sunday to take me."

"He will not meet me," thought Emily.

She waited another week, hoping she might meet him accidentally; hoping
he might come to her, hoping and fearing she hardly knew what. But still
John Mortimer made no sign, and she could not decide to write to him;
every day that she retained the ring made it more difficult for her to
return it, without breaking so the slender thread that seemed to hold
her to him still. There was no promise in it of any future communication
at all.

In the meantime curiosity, having been once excited about John Mortimer
and his concerns, kept open eyes on him still, and