“I am sorry, very sorry for you,” she said. “It is dreadful to trust and--be deceived. I would not have come on such an errand, only it was necessary you should know, and Fanny could not come.” It is not too much to say that these words brought her personal individuality for the first time to the attention of the man before her. Up to this time he had not given a thought to the consideration of who or what she was. To him she was simply the mouthpiece of and means of communication with Fanny Berrien. Now it suddenly occurred to him that here was a young, shrinking girl, who had come alone at midnight to bring him the message of the woman who had failed him. “She could not come, but she could send _you_,” he said, suddenly rousing to something like indignation, “though I hear from your voice that you are young, and this is no fitting time or place for you. Do not let me detain you longer--or, rather, let me take you at once back to your home.” “Oh, no, no!” cried Aimée, mindful of Fanny’s promise to watch and wait for her, and fearing an encounter of the two at Mrs. Shreve’s respectable door. “You must not think of it. I have only a short way to go, and the streets are quiet.” “Do you think I will force my way in to her?” said the young man, scornfully. “I assure you that I have not the least desire to do so. What have I to say to her? Nothing, except that I shall never trouble her again, and _that_ I can trust you to say for me.” “I shall say it,” Aimée answered, feeling not altogether disinclined to do so, “but I beg you not to come with me. I shall be at home in a minute. Indeed, you _must not_ come.” “I will not insist, then,” he said, hearing in her tone how greatly she was disturbed. “But you must go at once. This is a service that only selfishness would have asked of you.” “I came willingly,” said the girl. “It might have compromised Fanny, but I am of no importance--it can not harm _me_. I am only sorry that I had to bring you such a painful disappointment.” “If a man is a fool, he must suffer, and deserves to suffer,” said Mr. Kyrle, with a decision that did credit to his common sense. “But you are as kind as you are brave, and I shall not forget you. Now, go.” Aimée needed no second bidding. She turned and hastened back in the direction of Mrs. Shreve’s house and Mr. Meredith, who had watched the meeting and conversation from afar, divided the while between an overwhelming desire to break in upon it and the salutary fear of making himself ridiculous, had the satisfaction of seeing the door open and close upon her. IV. “Oh, what a time you have been, Aimée!” cried Miss Berrien as she opened the door. “I have been in an agony! What kept you so long?” “Have I been long?” said Aimée. She was almost breathless, and as she sank down on the first seat at hand, pale and trembling now that the need for exertion was past, Fanny’s heart smote her for her words of reproach.