One rainy evening, as my sister and myself were sitting in front of the wood fire, exactly two months since the famous contract, and very much in the same position, and talking over everything but it, a timid knock was heard. I said 'come in,' and Sabina entered, looking very healthy and neat--I cannot say pretty, though she had a good figure. I never asked questions on these occasions. I always made it difficult for them to talk in this, to them, gloomy room.--They had to stumble through themselves. 'Can I speak to you, sir.' 'Certainly, Sabina--go on.' 'I have come to say, sir, that--that--I have came to say, sir, that'--a pause; she looked very guilty. 'That's right, Sabina; you have come to say that--I understand--but what have you come to say?' 'I have come to say, sir, that--I have come to go, sir!' I controlled myself. She was an excellent chambermaid; understood my ways thoroughly; and did her work well; had always been respectful to _me_, and was very steady. It would be a great loss, but DISCIPLINE must be preserved, and my mind was at once made up. My sister looked surprised and sorry right out. 'Well, Sabina, when do you wish to go.' 'On Saturday, sir.' Oh how my sister wanted to speak, but I looked at the tin box that held the contract and she bit her lip. 'Very well, Sabina, you have a perfect right to go when and where you please, and I will take great pleasure in writing out an excellent character for you. Let me see, (looking at my account book) that is two weeks wages making $8. I never make presents, but as you are going here is a ten dollar bill. Where would you like your trunk carried, tell me and I will send it by Thomas Saturday morning?' 'Oh! it isn't that, sir,' said she, 'but--but, sir,' with the tears flowing rapidly. 'Why, what is the matter, Sabina?' (the first question apart from business I had ever asked.) 'I don't want to leave you, sir.' 'Well, that is strange, then why do you?' (business question.) 'I'm going, sir--I'm going, sir, to--be--married!' and she burst into tears. (I congratulated myself on being a bachelor, if conjugal affection produced such an effect.) 'Oh! that's it,' said I, dryly. 'Well I hope you will be happy.' 'But you've been so kind, sir, you--' 'There now stop, I have only tried to be just,' said I, looking exultingly at my smiling sister, who took off a little gold stud and gave it to her with many wishes of a happy life. Everything went on regularly as clock-work. There was a place for everything, and everything in its place. When the bell rang during dear Mary's sway, it continued to ring, and on one occasion, a friend met me in the street and said: 'Why William, have you moved?' I replied no, that we were very comfortable where we were, 'why do you ask?' 'That's very strange,' said he, 'we called yesterday at one o'clock and rang for twenty minutes. No one coming we concluded you had left for Europe.'