Williams approached Rita, who was still seated in the fireplace. She rose and accepted his proffered hand, forgetting in her confusion to introduce Dic. Roger's self-composure came to his relief. "This must be Mr. Bright," said he, holding out his hand to Dic. "I have heard a great deal of you from Miss Bays during the last four months. We heard in town that you had returned. Since Rita will not introduce me, I will perform that duty for myself. I am Mr. Williams." "How do you do," said Dic, as he took Roger's hand. "I am delighted to meet you," said Williams, which, as we know, was a polite fiction. Dic had no especial occasion to dispute Williams's statement, but for some undefined reason he doubted its truth. He did not, however, doubt his own feelings, but knew that he was not glad to meet Williams. The words, "I have heard a great deal of you from Miss Bays during the last four months," had so startled him that he could think of nothing else. After the narrative of his own adventures, he had, in imitation of Rita, asked _her_ to tell _him_ "everything"; but the name of Williams, her four-months' friend, had not been mentioned. Dic could not know that the girl had forgotten Williams's very existence in the moment of her joy. Her forgetfulness was the best evidence that Williams was nothing to her; but, I confess, her failure to speak of him had an ugly appearance. Williams turned to Rita, and, with a feeling of satisfaction because Dic was present, handed her a small package, saying:-- "I have brought you a little Christmas gift." Rita hesitatingly accepted the package with a whispered "Thank you," and Mrs. Bays stepped to her side, exclaiming:-- "Ah, how kind of you, Mr. Williams." Rita, Mrs. Bays, and Williams were facing the fire, and Dic stood back in the shadow of the room. A deep, black shadow it was to Dic. Mrs. Bays, taking the package from Rita's hand, opened it; and there, nestling in a bed of blue velvet, was a tiny watch, rich with jewels, and far more beautiful than the one Dic had brought from New York. Encircling the watch were many folds of a massive gold chain. Mrs. Bays held the watch up to the light of the firelight, and Dic, with an aching sensation in the region of his heart, saw its richness at a glance. He knew at once that the giver must be a man of wealth; and when Mrs. Bays delightedly threw the gold chain over Rita's head, and placed the watch in her unresisting hand, he remarked that he must be going. Poor, terrified Rita did not hear Dic's words. Receiving no reply, he took his hat from the floor where he had dropped it on entering the room several centuries before, opened the door, and walked out. All that I have narrated as taking place after Williams entered upon the scene occurred within the space of two or three minutes, and Rita first learned that Dic was going when she heard the door close. "Dic!" she cried, and started to follow him, but her mother caught her wrist and said sternly:--